What Doors May Open
by Brianna Jackson
Summary: What would happen if the one that got away, came back?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

If a year ago you had told me what my life would be like now, I wouldn't believe you. I would've called you crazy, delusional, absolutely deranged, and anything else that would fall into the category.

Because in my mind, by twenty-four I would be a millionaire, living in god-knows-where California with bakeries of my own all around the country, a chain bigger than Starbucks, a fifteen thousand square foot home, and maybe even a dog being my mother never let me have one growing up.

I'd be living _the_ life. The ones portrayed in magazines and in movies. Ones that could in no way be real.

Hell, in my mind I was still living that life. At least until I opened my eyes.

But no. Instead life had beckoned me back into reality, throwing me full force into the job of running a bakery. Not my own, but my parents. When I'd returned home to Panem with a business degree, I had full intention of just coming home for a year, get my feet wet in actually running a business of my own, then move far far away and forget all about this place.

That is what I had expected. What I hadn't expected was for a truck driver to take his eyes off the road for a seconds time, leaving me without a leg and my father without a life.

No, that had surely been a flaw to the plan I had so masterfully sketched for myself.

The leg didn't mean so much to me as losing my father. My kind, gentle father. That was a whole nother type of emotional pain that crippled me for as long as I let it. And I couldn't let it for long. My family needed me, the business needed me, in a way, this town needed me.

So I did the therapy, got the prosthetic and went along with my life as normal. Only now there would be no California, no other grand life to wish for.

Panem was my life now. Mellarks bakery was my life now. The art of making cheese buns was slowly but surely becoming my life now. I had grown to accept it.

Well, I am _growing_ to accept it. We all are.

"Is this all you do? Sit on your ass all day?" The voice breaks me from my thoughts, Johanna Mason lounging in the door frame of what has become "my office" but is really just a little room in the very back I come in to think sometimes. Today has been a slow one and I've had more than enough time to just think.

I've known Johanna all my life though our friendship wasn't much of a friendship until after the accident. Her mother worked in the bakery with my father until she developed arthritis a few years back and had to retire so Johanna took her place, not really working for money but working because she wanted somewhere to be. I didn't mind. She was good company to keep.

"Slow day," I say. There hasn't been a single customer in for two hours, most staying indoors to beat the summer heat. "Why are you here? It's your day off."

Johannas eyes spark at this. "You'll never believe who I saw when I was driving home from my-"

Just then, the bells above the bakery doors announce someones arrival, a female voice coming from the front asking for assistance.

Johanna turns around frantically, exasperation clear as day on her face as she stalks from the office, grabbing ahold of the apron all employees were required to wear.

Who had Johanna seen today? Better question might be, who has Johanna not seen in the passing weeks? Almost everyone from our graduating class has moved back home, back to their safety net. Everyone except a few.

I shrug. Sooner or later whoever it is will be by the bakery. Make small talk about business school before getting to the point. Probably break down in tears and sob to me about what a mess my life is as if I didn't know. It was almost a given now, people feeling more sorry for me than I felt for myself.

"If you're done vegetating, I could really use some help out here!" Johanna yells from the front.

I sigh, moving slowly, my body still not quite used to the prosthetic though it had been almost a year. Had it been almost a year? Just about. It had been winter, November if I remember correctly. I've tried my hardest to forget about it.

I try my best to plaster on an award winning smile when I walk through the back doors, the pair of teenage girls that stand at the front counter looking quite solemn as they wait for Johanna to prepare the coffee drinks they ask for.

"How are you today," I say jubilantly, moving around to take the money from their palms. The blonde rolls her eyes, the red head shrugs. Oh, to be a teenager again. What I wouldn't give.

They accept their drinks with little gratitude, moving to the corner of the bakery to drink in silence, chew on the piece of coffee cake they'd ordered. "Ungrateful little pieces of-"

"Johanna," I warn, my eyebrows pinching together. "Their, I don't know, thirteen. We all acted that way then." I couldn't really remember a thirteen year old Johanna but from the way she is now, it couldn't differ to greatly.

"You weren't," she counters. "You were Peeta Mellark."

I don't quite know what that means. I was a popular kid growing up, had plenty of friends, played plenty of sports, made good grades. But nothing too special in comparison to some of the kids Johanna and I grew up with. I was just one of the guys or so that's what I thought.

"Hey Peeta," Johanna says. I nod in question, doing my best to clean the dishes recently dirtied. My mother would have a conniption if she saw such a mess. "We're out of coffee. Do you think you could go get some from the store?"

I sigh. "Yeah, I guess I could."

"Be safe."

….

One of the main reasons I didn't leave Panem after I recovered from the accident was my fear of driving. Any type of motor transportation really.

My left leg was gone, my right leg still in tact making me legally eligible to drive. Mentally, the thought was daunting and unbearable so I didn't consider the option. My therapist tells me this is normal with the type of trauma I've been through. My mother tells me I'm a coward. My mind tells me I fall somewhere in between the two.

So versus my trip to the grocery store taking no more than twenty minutes, it takes me a good hour and a half.

I'm drenched in sweat by the time I finally make it to the store, my shirt clinging to body, my leg aching, begging for release. For a moment, I think about opting out of hobbling around the store and using one of those motorized carts.

_That's what their there for, Peeta. No one would blame you for using one..._

I overlook it and decide the ten minutes of pain will be worth all the sad glances I'm guaranteed if I spend a moment of my time in that chair. I'll just call Rye to come get me, drive me back to the bakery if things get _that_ bad. But they won't. I try not to let them.

The store is familiar, the same one I've shopped in all my life except now I'm an adult, buying my own groceries without a pocket of my fathers money. I'm no longer the cute, little boy who hangs around the store with his friends buying bubble gum. I'm the twenty-four year old cripple with a dead father and an even-

"Peeta." The voice breaks me from my concentration and I realize now I wasn't even been heading in the direction of the coffee. Just of the alcohol. Shit. Maybe it was becoming second nature.

"Peeta Mellark," the voice calls again when I haven't responded. Right. I'm supposed to say something.

I turn slowly on my heel, taking a deep breath in preparation for whatever is about to be said to me, whatever help is about to be offered. _Be nice. Just be nice._

My eyes don't find her immediately. It takes me a moment to get the notion to look down but when I do, I'm staring into the eyes of ones I never thought I'd see again.

Still grey, silver around the edges, biting as they stare at me with such intensity. Dark brown hair in a sleek braid, the ends touching her hip bones like they'd always done. Her skin olive, peachy, her cheeks blushed with red most likely from my stares.

Shit. Holy shit.

"Katniss," I whisper, her name falling from my lips in a whoosh as if I'd been holding my breath. Maybe I had. It feels like I'd stopped breathing.

She opens her mouth to speak, her lips quivering for a moment before she finally looks away, her hands coming to brush at her sides. I couldn't blame her for being at a loss for words. I was too.

What was this feeling inside of me, this warmth cresting over my body? It wasn't sadness. I'd felt enough of that for a life time. Nostalgia? Quite possibly, but it was something else. Something I couldn't place. Happiness? I hadn't felt that in so long, maybe I forgot what it feels like.

But maybe it was my medicines not really letting me feel anything.

I'd dreamed of this moment many nights in college, one where the two of us would meet again. When I'd come face to face with the girl who'd broken my heart thus beginning the endless string of loveless romances in my life in order to get over her, move on.

I thought I'd knew what I'd say, how I'd act. Surely, it would be better than this. But being in the moment now my heart feels as if it'll come through my chest, my ears ringing loudly like I was still standing in that train station. Not a single thought comes to my head. Not one but the overwhelming want just to hug her, feel her, hold her in my arms again. Just for a moment.

I always thought the reunion would be years in the future. When we were both in our thirties, our hearts healed from the pain we'd caused each other. When what we had was nothing but a naive sense of reality and the most idiotic notion of love.

I'll admit, in the months following the accident, I hadn't really thought all that much about her, not intentionally. I still dreamed of the quiet, silver-eyed huntress almost every night. But most of the day was filled with the bakery and when it wasn't, the medicine took care of the rest.

Maybe you could say I'd gotten over her. _Maybe_. But now, with her before me, I would just say I was distracted. But I wasn't distracted any longer.

"You're here," I finally manage. Was this what Johanna was trying to tell me? Why she had rushed to the bakery to give me the piece of news?

"I'm here," Katniss whispers, her voice shaking slightly, eyes still looking dazed. "My father thought it would be a good idea if I moved back."

Mr. Everdeen. I hadn't seen him in quite some time. After Katniss...left, he kind of stayed away. But they all did. Prim included. They gave me my space like I gave them theres. But I'd always been fond of the man. He was a good laugh and knew his baseball.

"So New York didn't-"

"My father thought it would be a good idea if I moved back," she repeats again, her arms going to her chest defensively. Katniss had never been fond of admitting defeat no matter how big or small. I knew that. The whole world knew that.

So I just nod, my eyes glancing down to the large tub of apple juice she carries in her arms. "I always thought you hated that-"

"Mommy! Auntie Prim says I can't have the chocolate bar you promised me."

My eyes fall to the little girl at Katnisses leg, her curly red hair pulled back in an elastic, a bow much too big for her falling into her eyes, her chubby legs not carrying her far as she bounces up and down excitedly.

Did she call Katniss "mommy"? Auntie Prim?

In another world, I might believe what is before me. In another world where Katniss wasn't so cynical, so set in stone about her opinion of children and how bad this world was and how cruel it would be. I would believe it if I hadn't spent a better part of three years hearing her say the words so bluntly.

But I was in this world and these were the facts presented in front of me.

Surely I would have heard, even before the accident. The girl couldn't be older than four, maybe five but even that was pushing it. Someone would have told me.

My father would have never kept something like this from me if it was true. My mother would also, not so much to spare me the hurt of finding out any other way, but mostly to embarrass me. But maybe they were oblivious too. The Everdeen's were always good about keeping their private life just that.

When I realize I've been staring for the better part of ten minutes, I lean down, eye-level with the girl before me, forcing a smile onto my face. I'd always been fond of children but for some reason, I want to run and hide now.

"And this is," I finally say, my words catching in my throat making it come out much more biting than I would have liked. Katniss would be able to forgive me surprise though, surely.

The little girl looks up at me with big eyes, grey. Just like her mothers.

"Emma," Katniss finally says, running a hand through her daughters curls. "Emma Grace Everdeen."

Emma Grace Everdeen. Well okay.

"Nice to meet you, Emma," I smile, reaching down to meet the girl at eye level. Apart from her hair, she is Katniss. The freckles around her nose, the eyes, the purse of her lips. The hair must be from her father. The thought makes my mouth taste vile.

"Emmy," she says, her toddler voice making it hard to understand her. I pinch my eyebrows together in confusion. "My name is Emmy!" She says a little louder.

"Emma," Katniss warns, giving me an apologetic look. "She likes to be called Emmy. That's what her grandpa calls her. Right, honey?"

Emmy nods her head excitedly, smiling. "What's your name?"

"Peeta," I say, resting my hand on my knee which is starting to give. The movement brings her eyes to foot, the ankle unable to really be hidden with my jeans in this position.

"What happened to your leg, Peeta?" Emmy asks, her hands reaching out to touch the metal. Katniss swipes at her so fast, I almost miss it. Emmy looks hurt.

"You don't just touch people, Emmy. And you don't ask about-"

"It's okay," I interject, giving Katniss a small smile. "I got in a tiny little accident and the doctors had to take my leg to make sure I could feel better." Short and simple. The story I would give my children one day when the time came. If the children even came.

"They made you like a robot?" She asks with more interest.

I nod. "Just like a robot except I'm not as cool."

Emmy smiles, Katniss looks uneasy. I would expect the expression from anyone but her. The one person on this planet who hated pity even more than I did. At least, she used to. Things change. That was obvious now.

"Why don't you go find Auntie Prim, sweetheart? It looks like Peeta could use some help with his groceries," she suggests, toying with the little girls hair. From the corner of my eye, I can see Prim, blonde and wide eyed as she stands with a loaf of bread in her hands. I only stare for a moment.

Emmy bounces off without another word, singing softly to herself as she does so.

Then silence.

Silence, silence, and then even more silence but it's been four years, that's all I had gotten from her.

It had been me who'd told her not to call. Me who had sworn her off. Me who'd buried her deep within my mind in hopes she'd go away forever.

"You look good," she finally says. It's what everybody says. And Katniss has never fallen into the "everybody" category.

"Thanks," I mumble, looking down to my feet.

"I meant in general," Katniss whispers after a minute, a blush on her cheeks. She looks so beautiful, so young, so much like she is within my dreams. My heart aches.

I nod my head. "I know what you mean, Katniss. Thanks." More silence. "You look the same."

Katniss laughs uncomfortably, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing," she states. "Does someone really want to look eighteen for the rest of their lives?"

_When they look like you, yes. _

I shrug. "It's the braid," I say. I fight the urge to reach over and grab it. I can't do that anymore. That's not my job.

"What are you shopping for?" She asks. "I saw you wandering around this entire store for a good twenty minutes."

"Had it been thirty minutes?" I mumble numbly. "My head was just out of it, you know. I actually just came for coffee. We ran out at the bakery and-"

"Well here," she says, holding out the bag in her own hand. "Just take this one. I can go get another one."

I shake my head. "No, really. It's fine. It's-"

"It's a far walk, Peeta. Really. I'm more than capable..." She trails off, her eyes widening under the realization of what she's just said, a hand coming up to cover her mouth in shock. "Oh my god, I'm so-"

"It's fine, Katniss." After all, I was more than used to people seeing me that way. That was my reality, no? I _was_ handicapped. Even hearing the words coming from her does little to wound me now.

"I didn't mean it that way. I swear," Katniss babbled. "I was just talking and you know how I get when I'm-"

"Cute kid," I interject, truly not caring whatever lame excuse she was about to muster.

Besides, there were bigger elephants in the room. My missing leg was no secret. The red headed little girl on her hip, it seemed to me, was.

Katniss nods, her eyes looking sad but brightening as she finds Emma, far across in another aisle, Prim at her side, smiling from cheek to cheek about something she said. So carefree. So drastically different from her mother.

"She's quite the handful," she whispers. "About to turn five in December and starting school in two weeks."

Five. Five years old. Where was I in my life five years ago? Certainly not in the place to have a child.

"She looks just like you," I comment. It seemed to be the appropriate thing to say though I had much more interesting comments to make, questions to ask.

But it had been six years since I'd last spoken to Katniss, our last conversation ending in words I'd wished I hadn't said. We were in no place for anything other than a little polite conversation.

Katniss smiles at her feet. "Except the hair." Yes. Except the hair.

"How is she liking it here in Panem?"

"Liking it a lot better than a small apartment in New York," Katniss goes on. "I wish I could explain to you the look of pure joy on her face when she heard we were going to a park."

"They didn't have those in the Big Apple?" I joke, giving her a smile, the smallest but most genuine one I can muster.

"Not like the ones they have here," she says. "She's sad she had to leave her friends but she'll make new ones."

I had no doubt Emma would. The way she bounced from aisle to aisle, spoke to each person who passed. The smile that never seem to leave her face and the way she would laugh like whatever was said was the funniest thing on Earth. No, this child wouldn't be anything like her mother in her younger days.

"Did her father move down with you guys?" I ask once I've finally gathered the strength to do so.

Waiting for her answer is the worst part, the pounding in my ears, the sweating in my palms. Like it would make the slightest difference if he was or not... Like she would ever want to see me after-

"Darius isn't in the picture," she answers softly, her eyes on her daughter.

My heart leaps selfishly, then sinks in sorrow for her. If there was one thing Katniss Everdeen could not do, it was catch a break.

"I'm sorry," I apologize, looking sheepishly at her.

But Katniss shakes her head with a small smirk. "It's for the better."

I say nothing because I trust her judgement. If she says it's for the better, who am I to disagree with her? I would have rather had one loving parent than two unhappy ones.

As if hearing my thoughts, Katniss puts a cold hand on my warm arm, her eyes catching mine only for a brief moment before looking away, back towards the tiles. "Peeta, I'm so sorry about your father," she mumbles. "He was such a great man. I would have come down if I could afford to and-"

"Thank you," I interject.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't bitter she didn't come. That I wasn't hurt the one person I needed the most that day was far away in some other world, living her life as if everything was normal. I'd tried to reason with myself. Of course her absence would never be intentional. But I was in a dark place and it's quite the challenge to control your mind.

She runs her fingertips up and down my arm, lighting a fire within me I hadn't even known was there. But she had always been the one to hold the match. How dumb was I to think other wise.

When she pulls away, her fingertips are slick with sweat. She doesn't flinch.

"Did you work out before you came here?" Katniss asks, wiping her hands on the sides of her jeans which couldn't possibly be any tighter.

"I don't drive anymore," I explain in a hushed whisper. "Good thing this town is small or I'd be in real trouble."

It's my attempt at a joke that isn't the least bit funny.

"So you walk everywhere?" She presses, pursing her lips together in disbelief. "That couldn't possibly be comfortable."

"It's not," I say before I can stop myself. "I just... I can't find it within myself to drive a car again yet. I can ride in them I just don't-"

"Do you want a ride back to the bakery?" Katniss asks suddenly. "It would be no problem. Prim met us here in her car. She could take Emma back to my parents if you wanted me to-"

"That would be nice," I say before I have a second to think about my answer. Because I would really enjoy that. The thing is, if I let myself think about it too long, I would talk myself out of it easily. There were hundreds of reasons to talk myself out of it...

"Go get your coffee then."

...

Once Katniss has Emma buckled into the back seat of Prims small car, she kisses her softly on the cheek before whispering strict instructions to her sister, her little sister who had been starting high school the last time I'd seen her.

How time flies.

Katniss, surprisingly, drive the same beat-up Altima she drove in high-school. Dings from the numerous finder benders, a nice amount of paint scratched out from the time she ran into the side of the wall at Wendy's under my best friend, Finnick Odiar's, parking instructions. I almost bring myself to laugh. Almost.

When I move to sit in the backseat, Katniss looks back at me with worried etched across her face, her eyebrows pinched in close together. "You don't want to sit up here?"

I wanted to sit up there. I just couldn't. "No. I like it back here," I respond softly, my fingers going immediately to the seat-belt. Then to the one next to me. Finally to Emmas car seat. Just for caution.

My mother thinks I'm compulsive and the therapist seem to agree. There's medicine for it. But I already take so much.

If Katniss thinks it's strange, she doesn't say anything. Just puts the car in drive and makes her smooth exit towards the main road. Driving in the car, it'll take us ten minutes tops to get to the bakery. Ten, easy, minutes.

"This place hasn't changed at all, huh?" I hear her ask.

Looking out of the window, no. Physically it hadn't. Everything was still identical to the way I left it and I don't know if it comforted me or drove me near insanity. Emotionally, everything was different.

"I guess not," I say. "Did you miss it?"

"I missed the people. Not it."

She doesn't have to explain. I know exactly what she means.

We don't talk for the rest of the ride back to the bakery, nothing but a few passing words on the weather or someone we know we see walking the street. Other than that, we leave each other to our own thoughts.

When we arrive to the bakery, the sign on the door has been changed to closed though I see a few people lingering inside, on their computers or chatting with friends, busier than when I'd left it. Through the clear glass window I see Johanna, her hair pulled back into the highest of buns, looking rather frazzled and exhausted.

It was my fault. My twenty minute coffee run had turned into a three hour reunion.

Katniss parks the car outside the bakery, leaning back in the drivers seat to get a good look in the windows. A slow smile spreads across her face before she finally looks to me. I realize I haven't moved.

"Thank you for the ride, Katniss," I say, moving to undo my seat belt only to redo it. "You saved me a good walk."

She smiles. "Anytime Peeta," she says. "You should call me if you need me. My numbers never changed."

Her number hadn't changed and neither had mine yet it'd been years since I've heard a simple hello from her. But she hadn't heard one from me either. Our mistakes balanced each other, it seemed.

Just as my hand is on the door handle, Katniss calls out to me. "Peeta!"

I turn on my heel, towards the open window and lean in. "Yeah?"

"Do you want to go get dinner or something? You know, catch up," she pleads, her eyes squinting against the fading sunlight.

Nothing in the world sounds better than dinner Katniss Everdeen. Nothing in the whole wide world but yet I shake my head no, my eyes falling to the pavement.

I take a deep breath. "I'm kind of seeing somebody."

Katniss doesn't try to hide her surprise or her sadness. She lets it all show in a run of emotions across her face the moment I mumble the words. Her lips close tightly, her scowl deepens, her hands grip the wheel tighter. Now I'd seen _this_ look plenty of times.

Was she mad? Mad at me when she was the one with a _child_?

"You are?" She breaths suddenly.

Now that was a loaded question. In a way I was. In many ways I was but in many ways, I wasn't. We'd never discussed it directly but we'd never had too.

So I nod.

"Who is it?"

"Delly Cartwright," I say without a moments hesitation, watching again as another set of emotions wash across her face. My throat feels tight.

When it seems she has no more questions, I continue. "She was there for me after the accident, with my dad and stuff. I don't know, we've always been good friends and it just kind of happened."

And that's exactly what happened. I'd never had a person there for me more in my adulthood than Delly was during the past year. No one to hold me as I cry and rock me as I scream. No one to just listen to what I had to say and not judge me. No one to look past the leg and see me as just me.

And Delly was. She was a great friend who slowly became my girlfriend in a way. The thing was, I wasn't ready for a girlfriend. I hadn't been ready for one since Katniss and Delly was no different.

But I owed Delly something and going to dinner with Katniss wasn't a way to repay her.

But you're not supposed to look at girlfriends that way. As a debt to be paid.

"I'm sorry, Peeta," Katniss apologizes, subtly restarting the engine of her car. "I had no idea."

How would she have any idea? She doesn't call.

I don't want her to leave, not really. I also don't want to leave the safety and warmth of her car. But what other choice do I have? So I make work with my leg, maneuvering it in and out of the car with ease, trying my hardest not to look at the sad expression on her face. I shouldn't take it personally.

"Thank you for the ride Katniss," I call over my shoulder. She doesn't reply. Just breaths deeply for a few moments before grabbing my arm once again, forcing me to look at her.

"My numbers never changed, you know that?" She whispers. Yes, she's told me so.

"Neither has mine," I say. There's more bite to it than I'd like. She retracts her arm quickly, dropping it slowly to her side, a small smile playing across her lips.

"Well, call me if you need anything."

I nod, not having much to say. I need a lot of things, just things she can't give me. I need a new leg, and a new father, and a new house, preferably, a new life. But what good would troubling her with my own, sick, twisted little life do?

She has a child at home who needs her more than I.

* * *

It seems I just can't get enough of these two! Sorry. I couldn't resist single mother Katniss and cynical Peeta.

Chapters will alternate between both Peeta and Katniss.

Tell me what you think about the story? I love reading your guys comments, criticism, praise! Whatever it may be. Thank you, thank you, thank you! You truly give me something interesting to do at night.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The soft sound of tiny feet running across the wood of my childhood home wake me, my eyes cracking open as the creak of the door fully brings her presence to my attention. I only have to wait moments to feel her little frame wrapped against mine, her chest morphing against my back, her hand coming to rest on my cold arm. Then her snores as she falls back to sleep.

This had been the routine for weeks. Emma hadn't been able to sleep comfortably since we came here, back to Panem to live with my mom and dad. I'm convinced it's how silent everything is, ironically. My baby was born in the city, used to the hustle and bustle of life in New York. Suburbs were different for her. Having a whole house to play and explore was a treat during the day time but daunting when night came.

I'd never have the heart to turn her away no matter how much she kicked during the night. This was an adjustment period for her. It was for me too.

New York had been a bust in the most cliche way possible. All I had to do was watch one episode of True Life and I could have told you my story within the forty-three minutes of one episode.

A young, teenage girl running away to the city to fall in love, be free, do what she wants to do. For me, that was sing. A stupid, naive dream that went down the toilet my first month there. Then it was all about surviving. With no college education, there was little I could do, little I could afford.

Countless times when I went without heat in my apartment during the winter or without water in the summer. Days when I'd have to run down to women's shelters and beg them to just let me use a stall, only for a moment.

Those were the days, running the streets of New York, looking for anything in the midst of everything which was, also, quite ironic.

But then I'd met Darius, another young struggling musician from the Bronx. I couldn't tell you what attracted me to him. He was no different than I in the money department, not much for looks, little personality. But I was nineteen, fresh off the plane from a small town, heart broken, looking for someone to love me when I couldn't love myself. And that, within itself, was a recipe for disaster.

I got pregnant about six months after we'd first met, the second time we'd had sex resulting in a mistake neither of us could undo. Except she wasn't a mistake, at least not to me. Emma was the beginning of my whole world, the only star in my sky, the wind beneath my wings, and whatever else you would find written on a Mothers Day card.

Darius had a fairly different view point on her, his daughter and only child as far as I knew. He didn't see her the way I did but he didn't have to. She was the best thing he'd ever done wether he wanted to admit it or not.

But he didn't deserve her. Looking at her cherubic face as she flutters in and out of consciousness, I couldn't be more happy he'd decided to leave her, leave us. How he did so, didn't matter. Darius was gone and then it was the two of us, Katniss and Emma against the world, or so it seemed. I liked it that way.

My father was the one who'd convinced me to move back, finally, after years of trying to do it all on my own, my pride getting in the way yet again. He was right, of course. I couldn't raise Emma in a place like New York with no parks and no schools and no community. She deserved to be raised around her family, see her aunt and grandparents, play with her cousins whenever they came. She deserved a life of grand things and I couldn't give her that all on my own.

And, as much as I would never say it, I liked it here. The security of it was unparalleled to anything. There was no more reason to worry about where we'd be sleeping, if we'd be warm, if Emma would be able to eat the pretty little pastry in the window she so desperately wants. No, all that was taken care of now.

I'm just beginning to drift off again when Emma decides it's time to wake up, for real this time, her small hands making circles on my face until my eyes crack open, her grey orbs staring into mine, a slow smile playing on her face. "Mommy, the suns up!" She sings, her eyes going to the window.

In fact, the sun was up.

I blink multiple times, wiping the sleep from my eyes and swinging my legs around the side of the bed, over exaggerating my stretches as Emma mimics me, giggling as she does so. "Mommy, you're so silly!"

I giggle too, a sound so unlike me I'm happy no one but her is here to hear it. "What do you want to eat, pumpkin?" I ask, finding her socks in a pile on the floor. If there was one thing she could not understand, it was that her socks were to stay on, no matter whose bed she was sleeping in. I roll my eyes. Stubborn. Just like me.

"Pancakes!" Emma cheers, throwing her hands up excitedly.

Pancakes... Hmmm...

"You know what, I think Uncle Gale is due to make us some pancakes, what do you think?" I smile. Emma nods her head, already moving to grab her jacket in it's place in the closet. She shrugs on the purple raincoat, grabbing ahold of the red bow she never let go of that so easily got lost in her hair.

I don't waste any time grabbing her things and moving her into the car, both my mother and father still fast asleep, Prim staying the night with a friend. The clock on the wall tells me it's nearing six o'clock, an early morning for most but regular for the two city girls. Gale will surely still be asleep but never has the heart to kick the two of us out.

Gale who is my best friend, has since I was twelve years old, young and naive, traveling through a part of town I shouldn't have been, just looking for trouble. If it hadn't been for Gale, I probably would've had my teeth knocked out by a couple of girls from the Seam.

We'd been inseparable ever since despite the age gap between the two of us. Even when he'd gone off to college, we'd kept close contact. Even when Peeta happened, our friendship never suffered.

He still lived in Panem, moved back after college, took over his dads tire shop for him. Engaged to Madge Undersee, a girl from my grade, who had, also, moved back to Panem before the rest of us were really ready to give up false hope that we might make it in the real world. Madge was nice, quiet and pretty and a girl seemingly too good for Gale though I would never tell him that.

I'm just happy he's found someone.

It takes us a good ten minutes to get to the house he and Madge share, a small townhouse with two bedrooms and one bath. Emma and I had stayed for a few days while my parents prepared their house for our arrival. It was nice. Emma often referred to it as her "second home".

Emma bounds up the stairs before I can stop her, laughing loudly as she grabs a fallen branch and makes work of picking the leaves from it's wooden branches, calling after me to follow. "Mommy! I'm going to make the prettiest crown for Uncle Gale and Aunt Madge with these leaves. You just wait and see!"

I laugh, rubbing her red curls, running my fingers through them realizing I did nothing in terms of appearance. I'd never done much to keep up with the social standards here in Panem, but with Emma, it was different. I didn't want people to view her the way they viewed me because she was something different entirely.

I let Emma knock on the door, encouraging her to knock for, at least, four straight minutes before a very tired looking Gale comes to the door, his bare chest freckled with what appears to be scratch marks, his hair tousled as he rubs his eyes. "Oh, it's you," he groans, yawning loudly before moving aside to let us in. "Hey there, princess."

"Hi, Uncle Gale," she smiles, hugging his leg before running before him, finding her stash of dolls she'd hidden from our short stint at the Hawthorne residence.

"Hi, Uncle Gale," I say, copying Emma's tone. He smiles, rubbing my head with one hand, the other going to close the door as he gathers a shirt from the floor. "Fun night?" I comment, pointing to the marking on his chest, the purple bruises on his neck.

Gale just smirks, winking at me as he pushes far past me, digging through his overly crowded refrigerator. "Where is Madge?" I ask.

"Still asleep," He grunts, his voice scratchy from not being in use for so long. Or maybe from over use. I don't wish to know. "What're you doing over here so early?"

"Emma-"

"Emmy!" She screams at the top of her lungs. Both Gale and I shush her quietly.

I roll my eyes. "Emmy," I say again, "woke me up at the crack of dawn this morning and wanted pancakes. And who makes better pancakes than Uncle Gale?"

Gale smiles softly. "No one. Isn't that right, Emmy?"

Emma calls back in agreement, trying with all her might to hush her voice.

"So what did you really come over here for?" Gale asks, moving about the room, ingredient after ingredient making it's way to the table with ease.

Oh Gale. He knew me too well.

"What makes you think I didn't just come over for some pancakes and company?" I ask, trying to keep my voice calm.

He says nothing. Just raises his eyebrows slowly. I could never hold a secret, but especially not with him. The words tumble out of me faster than Gale can mutter the word "okay".

"I saw Peeta yesterday at the grocery store," I start.

My minds frantic but it had always been that way when it came to him. To the blue eyed, blonde haired baker who could unravel me with a simple smile and I was not an easy knot to take apart.

It had been years since we'd last spoken. Years, and a million and one things had changed in our lives. Our worlds had always seemed to spin opposite ways, now was no different no matter how different we both were.

"He looked... Gale, he looked so lost," I whisper in defeat. My lip wobbles. I worry I'll cry again like I had when I'd left the bakery. "I don't know what I expected. I just didn't expect him to be so-"

"Crippled?" Gale interrupts, not looking up from the task of stirring his batter.

That wasn't the word I was looking for but it will have to do for my lack of vocabulary.

I hadn't seen him since the accident. Not in pictures, not in the long distant line of social media posts. He'd kept to himself and everyone else kept him out of it, even our old friends who still kept in touch with him.

I knew the leg was gone, my mother had told me that much. The physical damage from the accident I had expected to see. The bruises, the prosthetic, the burns, the scars. What I hadn't been ready for was the emotional damage that only I could see into. Only me because I knew him like the back of my hand no matter how many light years apart we were.

"I should have been here for him," I mumble, the words that had been pegging at the back of my mind for almost a year now finally coming to surface. "I should have been there."

Gale says nothing because not even he can deny that I should have made the trip, no matter how hard it would have been. I should have sucked it up. Swallowed my pride, put Emma on my hip, and ran to him in a time when he needed someone. Lord knows his mother wasn't giving him sympathy, his brothers not much help in that department either.

"What would I have looked like coming into his life with a child then though, Gale?" My voice cracks. Never had I been ashamed of Emma, never would I be embarrassed. No one within my life - my circle - had a problem with the way she was conceived.

But that didn't mean the town didn't have their own standards to live by.

Gale nods at this. "Yeah, maybe then wouldn't have been the best time," he says. "Did he see Emma? I mean, does he know she's around?"

I nod my head. His shocked, almost hurt, expression plays in tandem through my mind. "He was pleasantly surprised," I say. "But nice." Because Peeta is Peeta.

"Were you okay seeing him? Did you guys talk about anything..." The way his voice picks up at the end gives his intentions away.

"We didn't talk about it," I deadpan. Gale nods. "I asked him if he wanted to go get dinner, you know, catch up."

"That's quite friendly of you," he commends. "And I bet he couldn't-"

"He said no," I interrupt, embarrassed all over again.

Gale's surprise mirrors my own. The last thing I'd expected when I made the offer was to be turn down. The last thing I'd expected was for him to be seeing someone.

"Did you know he's dating Delly Cartwright?" I gossip. Gale frowns. "I know, right. Didn't see that one coming."

Delly Cartwright was a pretty girl we grew up with from in town, blonde, pasty, plump in all the wrong places. Everyone's friend.

And that was the problem. Come junior year, she'd thinned out. Highlighted her hair and found the perfect self tanner to offset almost everything negative anyone could say about her. She was beautiful, sweet, smart, funny, all of the above.. But she was everyone's friend and nothing more.

But no one could say such things about her now.

The bitter taste in my mouth surprises me. Who was I to judge Peeta for what he's done while I've been away? Why should I be angry with Delly for taking my place when I wasn't there?

I shouldn't. I was just a horrible person who still felt some sort of claim over the boy.

"Do you think he's trying to spite me?" I ask, guilty for even thinking such things. "He was never interested in-"

"People change, Katniss," Gale mumbles, setting the table. "He's just trying to move on. You have."

I say nothing else. Yes. I've moved on.

Haven't I?

...

Emma and I decide to take a trip to the park after leaving Gale's, eating a nice breakfast with him and a very tired Madge before retiring to the park by my parents, the place I used to play when I was a child.

Quite ironic.

I watch silently as each neighbor makes their way from their home, for the Peterson's, then the Miller's, in their robes with coffee in hand, dogs at their feet. All their children are long gone, living in homes of their own with children of their own and husbands and a dog. Living the dream.

I can't imagine how I must appear to them, child out of wed-lock, moving back home after a failed attempt at being rebellious. All I needed was a red streak in my hair and I'd be labeled as no good for sure. I try to ignore their stares.

I watch Emma run up and down the steps, smiling and laughing with another little girl whose name I do not know, her mother hovering over the two, laughing and smiling as they make conversation between themselves.

I recognize the women. Her dark hair, light eyes, perfect smile. She might have been a year or two older than I was, a cheerleader I think if I can remember correctly. On her wedding finger, a nice large diamond, beautiful and sparkling in the light. Oh, what was her name?

I have no time to think about it as she approaches me, smiling brightly before sitting next to me on the bench I'd wished to claim as my own. If one thing hadn't changed since high-school, it was my wariness about human contact. I still tried to limit it as much as possible.

"Katniss," the women sings, her arms surprisingly coming to wrap themselves around my neck. Hugs. I would never get used to these.

Reluctantly, I return the affection, patting her back softly before pulling away. "How are you?" I ask, my voice lacking real sincerity.

"Oh, I've been swell!" She sings. "Kellen has been driving me mad lately. About to turn six in February, starting school already. I could just about cry!"

I smile. "Emma, too. We've decided to start her early being that's how they do it in New York," I explain. "She's very excited about school."

"Maybe they'll be in the same class!" She cheers, still not giving me a hint as to what her name is. I'm still waiting for it to hit me. "Oh, won't that just be so much fun. I can't believe us, all grown up."

Yes, I couldn't really believe it either though I didn't feel all grown up.

"Emma, honey, don't swing from that," I call to her as she, yet again, tries her hardest to hold onto the outside of the slide and climb her way up. Dad tells me it will take her breaking her leg to teach her. I just hope it doesn't get that far.

"But mom!" She screams, her hands coming to her hips as she lands gracefully making no sound at all. Hunters tread, just like her mommy.

"Young lady, we'll leave if you start this," I warn, giving her my best stern look. I can remember only yesterday when roles were reversed.

Emma tries her best not to cry, her lips quivering as she looks at me with sad eyes before turning on her heel, stopping only to hide in the comfort of the awning, away from my eyes. I let her have her time. No need in pushing her.

"It was an early morning," I explain to the mom sitting next to me. Kellen - I believe that was her daughters name - has decided to join us, her own dark hair sticking to her forehead from sweat, her lips sucking down the juice her mother brought her.

"Oh, believe me. Ms. Fields over here likes to wake up at a quarter to five no matter how late we put her in her bed. It's like she has an internal alarm clock," she jokes, rubbing her daughters hair who just laughs. "My husband wakes up with her most days, thank God for him."

And I pray to God she doesn't ask me about my "husband".

"My dad wakes up at six to get to work by seven so if she's up by then, he usually takes over the morning duty. Prim and my mom help out a whole lot, I must say. I don't know how I did it without them for so long," I explain.

I don't know why I've told them women so much but I do know her in some way or another. In New York, I would have never dared say any such thing. Just another plus of moving home.

"Oh, if only. My mom and dad don't ever watch Kellen. All they ever do is work, work, work," she huffs. "And if I dare ask for an ounce of help, all my mother says is, 'Clove, that's why you found yourself a husband. Clove, that's why you moved to the bay area.'"

Ah, there it is. Clove Phillips who is now, I guess, Clove Fields. Had she married Marvel? The goofy looking kid from our grade? I hadn't heard of it but I hadn't been around in quite some time.

Clove Phillips who had slept with my boyfriend my senior year of high school when home from break. Well, Peeta wasn't my boyfriend then, really.

That was...after.

But still. You think I would have remembered the name of the girl who'd caused me such a great amount of emotional turmoil back then.

"Well, your parents are very hard workers." The Phillips owned part of the boardwalk a few miles south on a small beach that was really more of a lake than anything. But they had more money than they knew what to do with, that was a given. I couldn't pity her too much for not inquiring much help from them.

"And your still with your parents just down the street?" I follow her finger for some reason, making myself look idiotic.

"For a little while," I mumble, my eyes catching a glimpse of Emma's red hair blowing in the wind. She's long forgotten about being mad. "I'm moving into an apartment closer to the school some time next week."

In about four days actually and the thought panicked me. I was more than ready to be out of my parents home but being alone scared me. Quite funny being I was alone up until recently. But that was different or so I'm trying to convince myself.

"How exciting," Clove cheers. "We should really exchange numbers! You know, since the girls will be going to school together."

I just smile. Nothing in this world sounds worse than giving my number to Clove. Well, at least high-school Clove. I try not to base the person she is now off of the person she was in high school. People change, grow. Some slower than others but nevertheless.

Besides, it might be nice to make some friends now that I'm here to stay. _Really_ here to stay. Gale and Madge will grow tired of me soon enough, surely.

So I give it to her, reciting the number three times until it's typed into her phone and she's off, Kellen in tow, with the promise to call about play dates and carpool.

Playdates and carpool. Yes, this was my life.

...

We get home just as the sun is going down. Our decision to spend our Saturday outside was a good one but halfway home from the ice cream parlor, Emma is asleep in the backseat, hunched over the side of the chair, her bow hanging on for dear life as I roll the car to a stop in the driveway.

My eyes light up as I spot Prim's car, sitting in it's usual spot.

I hadn't had that much time to spend with her since I've gotten home, things being a little hectic. She chose refuge at a friends house for the past week or so. I can't blame her. I would if I had the chance.

I skip steps, Emma on my shoulder as I walk into my home, my father reaching for the sleeping girl immediately, whisking her upstairs before a word can be spoken. If only my parents knew about the countless times I was forced to lug the almost forty pound girl up five flights of stairs in our New York apartment. That wouldn't sit well with them.

"Katniss, dear," my mother calls from the kitchen, an overwhelming amount of smells spewing from the one pot she has on the stove. "Good news dear! Prim went by the store and got some lamb so I could make the stew you like."

I look to my sister, my little sister who wasn't so little anymore. She was nineteen, graduated from high-school, attending the college a few hundred miles up the road. Close enough to where she could come home on weekends and for meals if she wanted.

Prim who had sworn off makeup at thirteen and still managed to look beautiful in every aspect of the word. Her and my mother, always the beauty. Me and my father, the brains.

"Thank you, Prim," I smile, moving to sit next to her on the island as she twirls a piece of her hair, her eyes skimming over a book. "Since when do you read?"

"Since always, Katniss," she whispers, a smile playing at her lips as she flips the page. "You just haven't really been around to see it."

The comment isn't meant to guilt me but it does. It wasn't meant to mean anything at all so my mother and Prim don't even notice my shift in demeanor, the way my lip quivers for the slightest of seconds, my eyes gloss.

No, I hadn't been around for anyone I suppose.

"You have that girl beat," my father announces as he enters the room, smiling to my mother, kissing me on the cheek. "Where did you guys go today? I heard you leave pretty early."

"We went to have breakfast with Gale and Madge, then went to the park, then went to have lunch, then went to the bay, then... I don't know. It just kind of became our day," I explain. A smile comes to my face because it always does when I think of Emma. "Oh, you guys should've seen her feeding the birds! She had the-"

"What did you and Peeta talk about yesterday?" Prim interrupts, her book long gone.

My eyes snap up to hers, a frown forming on my face. "Prim!"

"Peeta? You saw Peeta?" My mother asks, her look mirroring my own. "Oh Katniss, I hope you were kind and polite to the boy. Lord knows he's-"

"Why didn't you tell them?" Prim inquires.

"I wasn't really home, Prim. God," I huff. "I wish you had given me a moment to-"

"I don't understand why it had to be a secret. You should've just told them now versus jumping into a story about how your kid-"

"And your niece, Primrose," my father growls.

"-fed her birds. I mean, I don't know about you two, but I'm a lot more interested in hearing about Peeta."

My mouth is hanging agape by the time she finishes. I hadn't been planning on telling mom and dad mostly because there was nothing to tell and that was that. They'd been around, they'd seen him. I'm sure he was no different towards me than he was towards them and I tell them so.

"Katniss, I don't believe that," my mom says sympathetically, looking towards my father who looks equally as unsettled. He had always been Team Peeta. "Peeta loves you."

"Loved her," Prim mumbles under her breath, shrugging when I turn my gaze on her. "Sorry, Katniss, just being honest. When I walked up it didn't seem like things were going well."

"He was a little surprised about Emma, Prim. I'm sure you would understand," I say, rolling my eyes. "Anyone would be. I just popped up with a kid."

"Yeah. I'm sure him, if anybody, was _real-_"

"That's enough, Prim," my father jumps in, his voice cold and final.

"Are we just going to pretend like-"

"I said that's enough," he says again. This time, she listens.

"Whatever. I have clothes to pack," Prim mummers, turning on her heel and out of the door. No one speaks until we hear the click of her door as she shuts it.

I don't know when I started crying but before I know it, my mother is reaching up to push away the tears. I flinch away from her hand. I've never been one for touch.

"It's an adjustment for us all," my mother whispers.

I shrug. I hadn't expected Prim to loathe me so much for forcing the adjustment, the disruption inside her home. Technically, it was our home. But like she said, I hadn't been around. What claim did I really have on this place?

"I think I need to go to bed," I whisper finally.

"But dinners almost done," my father mummers half-heartedly.

I shake my head. "I don't really have much of an appetite."

I stalk up the stairs like a sullen teenager, making sure I don't lock the door. Emma will be in hours from now, wanting me to rock away the nightmares and I would be there because she would ward away mine.

And that's what we do.

Protect each other.

* * *

Thank you guys so much for the warm response! This is such a fun story to write!

So, what do you think happened between Peeta and Katniss that caused the strain and virtually, the end of their relationship in high-school? Why is Prim so bitter? What are these feelings surfacing in this town?

Let me know! Thanks.

-B


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It's been three days since running into Katniss and it's safe to assume I haven't gotten over seven hours of sleep. Every time I close my eyes the only thing I see is her. Sometimes smiling, sometimes laughing, most of the time angry. Almost like the real Katniss.

I'd spent my hours awake usually staring at her number in my phone, the seven numbers that, in the grand spectrum of things, meant nothing. But to me they meant everything. How simple would it be to call, press the number and wait ten seconds to hear her voice.

I thought about it once, seriously. I sat in my office, finger raised above the number, ready to press. But then the phone rang and other things called for my attention. Those other things being Delly Cartwright. Fate, perhaps?

I try to give my best to Delly. After all, she is the one who has given up a large portion of her life to take care of me in a way. She is the one who dedicates her Tuesday mornings to driving me to therapy another town over. She is the one who sleeps in my bed at my apartment in case I need anything in the middle of night. She shares her meals with me and her stories and, if it's a good day, a few kisses when the night ends.

And I try to be fair to her. Try to give her as much of myself as I possibly can but it's not an easy task. Not when most days I'm too sad to get out of bed and the others are filled with thoughts of Katniss.

If only she knew that when she's kissing me, it isn't her I'm thinking about at all...

It's official, I'm a shitty person.

This will have to end soon for the sake of her finding someone worth her time, someone who will love her equally in ways I cannot.

But right now, I need her. Maybe not for the right reasons but I do.

My therapy appointments with Dr. Aurelius have become usual things per request of my physical therapist. I hadn't been open to the idea at first. But it _was_ helpful. And far away. No one but Delly and my family and Finnick knew I made the trip to see him.

Dr. Aurelius was an old man with a few strands of blonde hair left on his head and spectacles that fed into whatever cliche vision of a therapist you have. In his office are pictures of his daughters, both blonde and beautiful and images of his wife who, as of three years ago, was diagnosed with cancer. But she's doing well, or so he says.

The thing I like most about the man is he doesn't look at me like I'm crazy, treat me like I'm fragile. Sure, there are times when he takes a long break in between my words or sighs heavily. But never does he speak to me like I'm wounded. Maybe that comes from being a very good doctor, maybe it comes from not knowing me before the accident.

When I walk into the office this Tuesday morning, the candles are lit all around the room, music playing softly in the background from the local station, the young receptionist in her usual spot behind the computer typing away. She smiles when I walk in.

"How are you doing today, Mr. Mellark?" She asks. I cringe at the name. "Oh right! Peeta."

"I'm doing as well as any day," I reply, giving her a friendly smile and signing my name in the box before she can instruct me too. I was a regular. I knew the drill. "How are you today?"

"Oh, you know," she starts. "It's Tuesday."

I shrug. Another small girl is sitting in the waiting room with her mother, a finger spinning her red curly hair which is such an unusual color. It's like Emma's, not quite as subtle. I shake my head, already thoughts of Katniss forming within the crevices of my mind. It wasn't healthy to think of someone so much, I was sure. At least, that's what Johanna told me.

I wait another ten minutes before Dr. Aurelius calls me back into his office, the dress shirt he wears a dark shade of green. Katniss would love that. She'd always loved the color - _shit. Get it together, Peeta. _

"Peeta, how are you today?" The older man greets, clasping me on the back and pulling me into a hug. Normally, this would bother me but I'm trying to be more open. That's part of the healing.

"Hey, Dr.," I greet, shutting the door softly behind me. "I like what you've done with the place." He's moved around a few things, more art on the walls, more pictures of his family, a few more of his dog. What I wouldn't give to live a life like he does. Minus the sick wife part, of course.

"Well, Shelly gets in here and you know, it's all over," he laughs. "You look good today, Peeta. Happy. Did you drive yourself?"

I shake my head. "No, Delly brought me. She just knows I like my privacy with these type of things so she's down the street getting coffee." Just another thing to credit Delly for. She never pushed anything on me, never asked questions she knew I wouldn't want to give the answers to. She knew when to pry and when to fall into the crowd.

"So you're still seeing the girl? It's been what, almost a year now, just about," Dr. Aurelius comments.

I shrug. Our relationship had progressed over the course of a year. In literal terms we were _seeing_ each other. But what Dr. Aurelius implied didn't so much as match up what the relationship meant to us. Well, to me. "She's a good person."

"So are you, Peeta," he says, scribbling something into his notebook. "I notice the change within you when you speak of her, the way your eyes become less focused. Why do you think that is?"

A loaded question and one I couldn't answer because I didn't know why talking about Delly put me in such a bad mood. It shouldn't. Talking about Katniss never made me feel that way. "I don't know."

"Do you believe the accident makes you incapable of love? Of believing you deserve love?"

Things long before the accident made me feel that way.

"So we're jumping into the heavy stuff today, huh?" I joke.

Dr. Aurelius laughs. "I'm just trying to understand. It was a simple observation I made that I just wanted to grow on."

"No, I don't think I'm incapable of love," I say. "I just..."

"Don't love her," he finishes for me. I don't say anything, just stare. "That's okay, Peeta. Relationships don't always work out."

No. My past had shown my enough of that.

My silence is enough for him to realize I want to move forward. "So if Delly isn't making you happy, what is?"

"I never said she wasn't making me happy," I state, jumping to the defense. "I just saw an old friend recently and - I don't know. I guess it got me thinking."

"And old friend as in..."

"Katniss, yeah." She had come up in more than a few conversations between the doctor and I. I mean, when he asked about my past, my high school years in particular, she's a hard factor to miss. Still is.

"How did seeing her make you feel? Any sense of longing for another life?"

"Since the accident I have a constant sense of longing for another life, she just kind of added to it, I suppose," I say. "She has a baby."

Dr. Aurelius eyes widen. "A baby?" He states. "Did you know before running into her that-"

"No," I interrupt. "No, I didn't know. I don't think anyone knew."

I hadn't directly asked anyone, not even Johanna, if they had any knowledge of it. I mean, if they didn't it was obviously because it wasn't something Katniss didn't wish to share with the world. I went through her Facebook profile for nearly an hour, not finding a single trace of Emma anywhere. Or Darius. Or her life in New York.

"Maybe she just thought keeping it from you would be best in this time," he suggests. Yes, I'd thought about that too except for that Emma was five, not one. She'd been on this Earth years before my fragile heart needed any extra protection.

"The little girl is four, about to be five. This all happened years ago," I tell him.

Dr. Aurelius leans back in his chair, his hand no longer scribbling words down on the sheet of paper. "You don't seem to hurt by this," he says. "I would have expected you to take it much harder. After all you two had been through with-"

"I don't need reminding," I hiss, making a fist at my side. "I don't know, probably the medicines."

He laughs. "Yes, you're probably right."

"Do you think we might try something different? Something that doesn't make me feel so... not me?"

"Do you still feel, I quote on quote here, 'like bashing your brains into a wall over and over again'?"

"Sometimes."

"Then no."

...

Delly and I go to lunch once the appointment ends, kind of a tradition the two of us have going. The Old Settlers Bar & Grill on the corner of 5th in the small city Dr. Aurelius practice resides in. It's nice. Reminds me of somewhere my father would enjoy.

Delly sits across from me in the table we always sit in, the women working at the front bringing us here without question. It's quiet, blocked off. Somewhere where the two of us could easily get some privacy. They put us here after the first appointment when I yelled at Delly in the middle of the restaurant. It didn't make them look very good to be seating psychopaths. But that's when things were bad.

"You know, I've heard this place was on the Food Network or something," Delly says, jabbing at the salad she ordered. She always ordered that damn salad and for some reason, today it irked me to no end.

"Not hard to believe," I mutter through bites of my own sandwich. "This place is so good."

"It's a shame it isn't closer, huh?" I nod. "You know, we should really get Dr. Aurelius something nice for Christmas. After all he's done."

That is a good idea and I tell her so. Something for his daughters too, his wife as well. Just because I liked the guy and wanted him to be happy. After all, he was trying his best to do the same for me. It's not exactly working but that's not exactly his fault.

We make comfortable conversation for a little longer, things growing silent then heating up again, Delly jumping into story after story of things I couldn't possibly care less about. I realize I'm having to force myself to respond, force myself to stay interested in the things she's saying.

God, relationships shouldn't be this way. They really shouldn't.

When the waiter brings the check I grab it without hesitation, slipping my credit card inside and handing it to the man before he even has a chance to ask us about our meal. He looks a little taken off guard but walks away quickly.

"Did you know Katniss Everdeen moved back to Panem?" Delly isn't looking at me as she asks so I'm unable to read her expression. Annoyed? Angry? Upset? Probably one of those things.

I nod. "Yeah, I ran into her at the grocery store the other day."

"Does she really have a kid?" she asks, her voice remaining emotionless.

"Her names Emma, yeah. About to be five," I inform.

"Wow. So you two really got to catching up, huh?"

"Yeah, Delly. It's Katniss, what did you expect?"

The words come out harsher than I expect them to, making her jump slightly. I didn't shout by any means but you could never be quite sure with me. I was a walking grenade. I was ready to go off at any moment.

I take a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Peeta. But I'm ready to go. Okay?"

"Okay."

...

I don't know how I got here. I really don't.

One minute, I was in my bathroom, preparing for a quite evening - though every evening was quite - in my apartment when I was bombarded. Finnick, Marvel, and Thresh breaking through my door, not even having the courtesy to knock, Marvel and Thresh already fairly intoxicated.

"We're going out, bud," Finnick exclaimed. "Time to get back in the saddle. Get dressed."

For some reason, I'd listened to them. I let them shove me into the back of a car - a concept I was very uncomfortable with - and drive me to some small bar on the other side of town that I hadn't been to since I was seventeen with a fake ID.

The place is full when we arrive which is another source on anxiety for me. I know everyone here - well, almost. All from our class though no one we associate with. A few girls come to the table to say hello, a few guys shake hands with us. Other than that, we're left alone. Except for the stares. But there are always stares.

"You can't tell me you're not having a good time," Finnick whispers in my ear, motioning around the overly crowded bar. A glass of scotch in his hand, a big smile on his face, I could almost punch the guy.

"I'm not having a good time," I say in the most monotone voice I can muster, sipping my sprite silently as the people around me move to the beat of the music which is amplifying the pounding in my head. Shit. I'm starting to sound like my mother.

"I never knew Peeta Mellark to be such a bore," he jokes.

"Yeah, well, you never knew Peeta Mellark without a leg until now so I guess things change," I bite. Finnick is probably the only person I could say this to without feeling guilty.

Finnick had been my good friend since about seventh grade, one of the guys in the school I really related to. I had plenty of friends, just none whose company I enjoyed more than Finnick's.

Throughout high school, we only grew closer. We were partners in crime until he meet Annie and I meet Katniss, then our friendship kind of took the back burner with everything else. But he was the only one of my 'friend' who would volunteer to come help in the bakery on days when it was just me.

We went off to college together, roommates and all up until the end when we decided to move back after graduation. We were going in on a business together, that was the plan. Finnick would take care of the financial part, I would take care of the baking.

But then the accident happened and all that changed.

The accident is what made me realize Finnick Odiar was my best friend. My true best friend.

Believe me when I say the man never left the hospital for a good three days. Never left the waiting room and, finally, when they allowed me visitors, never left my side. He brought me food, brought me magazines, watched games with me when all of our friends were out enjoying their own lives.

He cried with me about my dad, helped my mother plan the funeral, made sure I had the best prosthetics money could buy.

Finnick took me to every single physical therapy appointment, cheering me on when I succeeded and helping me up when I fell.

Never in my life had I had a friend so loyal to me, so good.

If I got anything out of the accident, it was the realization of what a good friend truly was.

"I didn't know we were here to throw ourselves pity parties, excuse me," he counters. "You sure you don't want a drink? The doctors said you could have one if you wanted it."

I shake my head. Drinking in the privacy of my own home was something different than drinking in public. I would save it all for later. "No. I'm okay."

"Hey, these girls want us to go back to their summer home, whatever the fuck that is, later! Are we in?" Thresh calls over the blaring music, nodding off to a pack of girls all whom I recognized.

"Out," Finnick calls. "Annie's waiting for me at home."

"Not tonight man," Marvel says, surprisingly.

Thresh doesn't even look to me because he knows the answer.

The girls leave with over exaggerated pouts, drinks in hand but numbers in their phones, promising to call if anything came up. Nothing would come up but they'd call anyway. It's how the girls here were.

I groan. "Finn, maybe I should just head home."

"C'mon Peeta! Have some fun!" Marvel yells, clapping me on the back. "We wanted to bring you out to have a good time, make out with some chicks, get wasted!"

"When have I ever been one of those people, Marvel?" I hiss.

"Well twenty-four is a pretty damn good age to start!" They all laugh and I crack a smile. "Oh shit. Three o'clock. Three o'clock."

We all crane our heads backwards out of pure habit, right towards the door where Katniss Everdeen is checking her coat, Gale Hawthorne at her side, Madge Undersee not to far behind.

My reaction to her is immediate and I'm hoping no one notices. I'd thought about her nearly every day but hadn't actually seen her since the store. Now she was here, in the same bar. It was crowded. Maybe she wouldn't see us. Maybe-

"Katniss!" Thresh booms over the roar of the music. Everyone in the bar turns to our table. I fight the urge to crawl underneath.

Finnick looks at me for a moment with worried eyes, then back to Thresh who obviously didn't give his actions any further thought. But we had all been friends, I seem to forget. They would be happy to see her too, they should be. She was just as much a part of their lives as she was mine.

"Are you going to be okay?" Finnick whispers in my ear. I hadn't looked up from the table but I can only imagine she's now making her way to us. My hands shake. "We can go if you want, Peeta. I'm sure Marvel and Thresh won't have a problem-"

"I'm okay, Finn," I interrupt. I look him in the eyes as I repeat the words for good measure.

When I finally look up Katniss is staring, her eyes popping against the dim light within the bar. The dress she wears does little to cover her up, her hair down, for once, cascading in curls down her back. She looks beautiful but when has she not.

"Hey," she whispers, sliding into the booth with me, into the side that isn't occupied. She keeps a good foot and a half between us for safety. "I didn't know you came here."

How would she know? "Yeah, I don't. Finnick kind of forced me into it," I mumble. "Literally dragged me into his car."

"I understand. Gale and Madge made me. Apparently I don't get out enough and I need to start spending more time with adults than I do with children," Katniss tells me. The mention of Emma makes my stomach squirm but not in a bad way.

"Is she with your parents tonight?" I ask.

"Yeah. They were more than happy to watch her while I got out."

I nod. "My mother's not to fond of children, you could say. It's usually me watching Rye's kids if anyone."

"Rye has kids?"

I hold up two fingers. "He and Lavinia had twins, Emily and Cash. Cutest kids you've ever seen. Their about to be six in April. Maybe they'll be in Emma's class."

Katniss smiles genuinely. "So he ended up marrying her, after all?" I nod. "Good for them. They always made such a lovely couple."

Rye and Lavinia did make a lovely couple. Probably one of the only couples to make it out of this town. They lived about 50 miles north in another small town, one closer to Rye's job. They come home as often as they can. Especially now.

"Crazy, huh? Look at all of us all grown up," Finnick says from beside me. "I didn't know you had a kid, Katniss. Congrats! I'm sure she's lovely."

Katniss smiles tensely, looking around the table to find all eyes on her. Well, all eyes on us. "She's wonderful," she mumbles. "And you and Annie? Still together from what Facebook shows me."

Finnick nods happily. "Yeah, still slumming it. She would've been here tonight but I told her it was a boys night."

Katniss blushes. "I'm sorry if I'm intruding. I just felt-"

"You're not intruding," I interrupt, taking a moment to kick Finnick under the table. He sends me one back. At least I think so. I just heard the clink of the metal.

"No, Katniss, really," Marvel says, looping his arm around her, obviously drunk. I shake my head. "We miss you so much! I, for one, am over the moon that you're back. I feel like the gang is back together."

"I'm happy to be back, Marvel. Thanks," Katniss says, disentangling herself from him. "I start working next week in the town over. Some restaurant hired me."

"The Old Settlers?" I ask.

Her eyes light up. "Yeah! Do you know the place?"

"I pretty much live in that place," I tell her.

"What are you doing another town over? That'd be a fairly long walk," she jokes, nudging my side with her elbow. She leaves fire where she touches but that was nothing new.

I can't help but smile back at her. She was contagious in every sense of the word. "It is but you know, I-"

"That's you and Delly's place, right, Peeta?" Finnick interrupts. I turn to him with the deadliest glare that he only returns. What was he doing?

When I turn back to Katniss her face has fallen as well. All the humor and light she had, gone. Like the flip of a switch. Instead she blushed so deeply I could even see it in the dimming lights. Her grip tightens around her purse.

"Right. Where is Delly tonight?" She mumbles. "Is she coming or did she not want to intrude on boys night?"

"We didn't invite her this time around but I'm sure we could give her a call," Finnick tells her, smiling softly. "Do you want to do that, Peeta?"

"No, Finnick. I actually don't," I growl.

Finnick simply shrugs, looking back to Marvel and Thresh who look just as surprised as I am about his attack. Not so much of an attack as just simply pointing out the truth. But it was meant to hurt her, meant to knock her back a step.

"Maybe I should go," Katniss ended. "I can't be out too late."

"Do you need a ride home?" I pipe up, jumping to my feet. I do it to fast and stumble for a moment, causing all four people at the table to jump with me. But I regain my balance. I always do.

"I don't drive but if you want someone to..." I trail off because I'm clueless as to where I'm going. What good would I be to her? I'm not sure what I needed in the moment but I just needed to be in her presence.

The five minutes I'd spent with her had been better than the two hours I'd spent without. But hadn't that always been the case?

I could feel the dependency creeping back into me, into my blood stream. She was like a drug and I was the biggest addict there was. God, where there some kind of rehab for this? Some type of steps I could take towards prevention? If so, I need them fast.

"Peeta, why don't you stay?" Finnick states. "I don't want you getting-"

"Thanks dad, I'm okay," I bite. He just shrugs, sinking back into the booth, bringing the scotch to his lips. I could see the hidden message within his eyes but it was something I already knew.

Weak, they read. I was weak.

"I could just walk you to your car," I whisper then. The crowd of anxious eyes around us was gradually growing. I wanted - no, needed - to be somewhere else before I blew up. It was only a matter of time, really.

Katniss crosses her arms protectively, looking to Finnick then back at me. "It'll take me a moment to grab my things," she says after awhile. "I need to go tell Madge and Gale I'm leave also. Why don't you meet me by the front door in about ten minutes?"

She doesn't give me any time to respond before she disappears into the crowd of people. They part for her like the Red sea.

"Peeta, man, don't do this to yourself," Finnick says from behind me, pulling me into the booth. Apparently I was staring. I hadn't even known. "Don't look at me like that either. I'm just trying to look out for you. The last thing I want is repeat of senior year."

"What makes you think we'll have a repeat of senior year?" My face burns.

"It's never any different with her, Peet," Finnick bites. "You push, she pulls. A never ending fight between the two of you and I don't see why you keep putting yourself through all of it."

My eyebrows crease. Never had I heard Finnick speak about Katniss this way. Not even senior year when things were bad between the two of us. He had picked my side - and yes, sadly, there were sides - but he never said anything bad about her. Mostly because Annie picked her side but nevertheless.

Why things were so different now blew my mind.

"No one's pushing and no one's pulling, Finn," I snap. "I'm walking her to her car, not to the justice hall, Jesus Christ."

"But this is how it starts. It may just be a walk to the car now but sooner than later it's going to be a walk to her front door, then a walk to her bedroom, then a walk straight down memory lane and the last thing you need is-"

"Glad to see you're so supportive," I practically yell, my temper getting the best of me. Like I'd said, only a matter of time. "I'm actually happy. Not happy but not feeling like shit."

Finnick sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, looking to Thresh and Marvel for help but it's clear their occupying themselves with their smart phones. No one wants to get in the middle of this debate. Not again.

"And Peeta, that's good! That's really, really good. I just don't see why she is the only one who can make you feel this way," he says.

"And you think I do?"

"Why can't Delly make you happy, huh?" That seems to be the question of the day! "She's a nice girl who hasn't completely run you head first through the mud with-"

"Enough, Finnick," I chant. Ten minutes must have passed by now. If it hadn't, I would gladly wait outside. "I'll be back."

I turn to leave without waiting for a response. Sure enough, Katniss is waiting for me by the door, a small smile on her face. I try my best to lose the pissed expression on my face, no doubt I've turned into the angry, old man I've been these past few months.

I didn't want her to see that side of me. Not today when everything between us was still so young.

"I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me," Katniss jokes, making a left once we're out of the door. There's a line nearly wrapping around the building which surprises me. I hadn't even known their were so many people within Panem.

"I could never forget about you."

The silence that follows is loaded as was the comment. But it's not uncomfortable silence like I'm used too. It's content.

"You really didn't have to walk me to my car," she says after awhile. "I was more than capable of walking myself."

"I wasn't going to let you walk alone in the dark," I tell her. "There are some crazy people out here, don't you know?"

"Crazy people in the streets of Panem? Who would've known!"

She laughs and I do too.

We walk a good half mile before coming to her car. As she unlocks the doors she turns to me, her eyes cast downward as she fiddles with her key chain. I spot the New York keychain on the key ring.

"Thank you for walking me, Peeta. It was completely unnecessary but sweet," she laughs, bringing her hand up to rest on my arm. "Peeta, are you okay?"

The silence is deafening.

"No." I wouldn't say this to anybody else but Katniss is Katniss. She was asking because she already knew, not because she wondered.

I'd learned this in our first year of dating when I tried to lie to her about spending the night at my grandparents when, really, I was in the basement of Finnick's house drinking the wine coolers we'd managed to sneak. She didn't talk to me for a good three days.

Katniss waits a long moment before pulling me into a hug. Her arms hard, but her touch soft. Her hair smelled of roses like I so vividly remember, her face fit perfectly between my shoulder. Just like the good ol' days.

How did I live without this for so long? I couldn't live without it anymore, that was for sure.

"But you'll be okay?" I can feel her lips moving across my shirt.

I nod. As long as I had her within my reach, I would be.

* * *

My heart aches for Peeta! And for Katniss, in a way.

Finnick may seem like a jerk in this chapter but I'm sure, as friends, we've all been in this position before. Where you want someone to be happy but just don't want to see them go through the same turn of events. It's a rough place to be in but real friendships get through it.

Anyway, please review and tell me what you think! Thank you always.

-B


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

There was stillness in the air when my alarm clock woke me that morning, the sound of the coffee maker going off muted, the loud voices of my parents gone.

I start when my eyes finally come into the focus, the faint light from the early morning sun traveling in through my window seal. I'm not in my home anymore.

The walls are not painted green, my bed doesn't squeak under my weight, my blinds are not ripped and torn in the most random places making them virtually useless.

Then the reminder dawns on me as my eyes fall on the boxes in the corner of my new room, still unpacked and labeled from everything I'd brought from New York.

Right. We'd moved.

Our new apartment wasn't far from my parents house, a good five miles across town but not a bad drive, sort of daunting walk. It was fairly priced, much cheaper than anything I would've been able to find in New York for the size of it. It has running water, a air conditioner, a heater, a nice little kitchen for cooking (if that were ever to happen), and even a small living room to entertain my non-existent guests. Now this was how grown ups lived.

I groan as I shift to my back, my hands stopping the obnoxious buzzing that is sure to wake up Emma any moment. I realize now she hadn't come to bed with me. But she hadn't the night before either. I missed having a insomniac four year old in my bed more than I should.

She'll be up soon. After all, it is her first day of school.

The thought almost brings me to tears. My baby, my only child as far as I was concerned, was starting school today. Her life was beginning and there was nothing I could do about it. My baby. My precious little miracle.

As if on cue, I see her curly head pop through the door, tooth brush in her mouth, smile on her face as she scrubs away at her teeth. "Mommy, guess what day it is?"

"What day is it, Emmy?" I smile, moving to hoist her up onto my hip, knowing my days of doing this were dwindling. I mean, the girl was pushing fifty-three pounds.

"It's a school day!" She cheers, throwing her hands around my neck as she places a bubble gum flavored kiss on my mouth. "Papa says I'll make lots of friends and eat lots of food and play lots of games!"

"You'll also have to learn a little," I say, tapping her on the head with my index finger. "After all, I think that's what were sending you there for."

"Oh yeah. He may have said something about that," she whispers, jumping down. I listen to her tiny feet retreat down the hallway. "Mommy! Can I wear my rain boots?" She calls.

Nowhere in the forecast does it call for rain. "Not today, baby. It's a pretty day outside." It was. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, from my window of my apartment I could already see the city coming to life. "Why don't we wear the pink flats Aunt Madge got you for your birthday?"

Emma groans, reminding me so much of the thirteen year old Prim I left behind. I shake my head. She was much too young to already be showing this type of behavior. What was I in for when she hit her teenage years?

"But I want to wear my rain boots!" She screams from down the hall. "Grandma said I could wear my rain boots!"

"You wear rain boots when it's raining, Emma! Not when it is nearing eighty degrees outside and the sun in shining," I respond. Striking an argument with a four year old may not be the best idea, especially with my four year old who had all the stubbornness I had within me, times four. "We can wear them another day. C'mon. We still have to eat some breakfast."

"I'm not eating until you say I can wear my rain boots!" She counters.

"Emma Grace, you'll get out of that room by the time I count to three or the rain boots will go in the trash!" I threaten. It's an empty one but nevertheless, it scares her out of her argument and back into my room, hands on her hips, lip between her teeth.

It seems she's decided to wear her little black dress she'd gotten for Christmas, red and orange scarf my mother had knitted her, and, to top it all off, the craziest pair of spider web leggings she owns.

I sigh. I started letting her dress herself about a year ago, the mother's in the parks in Brooklyn getting to me. To them it was all about 'self expression' even though the term is completely lost on such young children. But still. She seemed to enjoy doing it and took pride in her outfits.

It didn't bother me so much in New York as it does now. Once again, just another thing about coming home.

My mother had always told me growing up that I was a direct reflection of her. I used to think she said it because she was embarrassed of me. Because I was the girl who didn't wear a bra until high school and chose not to brush my hair and avoid the makeup counters.

But now, with a child of my own, I see what she means. Kids wouldn't make fun of her for her clothes; they were still much to young for that. But what would the mother's say at the club over club sandwiches?

I remind myself for the tenth time, I don't care.

"You look beautiful, Emma," I say, pressing a well deserved kiss to the top of her head. She smiles. "What happened to your bow?"

"Not today, momma," she tells me. It had been a good year since I'd seen her without the bow. The accessory hadn't been my idea but I'd grown used to it. It was a part of Emma that, I guess, wasn't really a part of her anymore.

Maybe it was just the early morning and lack of sleep but I felt on the verge of tears.

Before Emma can see my show any type of emotion, I move to the kitchen, working my way around the room to prepare the only breakfast Emma seems to like. Oatmeal, raisins, and dry toast.

She sits on her stool eagerly awaiting the meal, her black Mary Jane's still inches above the floor. She swings her feet back and forth as if she wants to take flight. "Do you think I'll meet any boys?"

I smile. "I think there may be a few, yes," I say. "Kellen, the friend you made at the park, will be there. And there will be a lot of other kids too. You'll have a really good time."

"Will we have nap?" Emma inquires. "Because I don't want to take a nap today."

"You'll have some time to lay down. You don't have to sleep though." She nods. "Raisins or cranberries today?"

"Raisins," she says. She always does. I don't know why I bother asking.

We move around each other in silence for awhile then. Her eating, me trying to pack her lunch into the floral lunchbox my mother had bought for her. I try my best though, in all honesty, I don't know what I'm doing. I try to remember what my mother would do, the notes she'd leave and the way she'd cut my sandwich.

But Emma was still so young. She wouldn't understand the kind gesture now.

"What if I don't like my teacher?" Emma asks suddenly, her spoon in her breakfast, her eyes staring forward.

"You'll like your teacher," I reassure her. She's yet to find a person she doesn't like. I'm hoping it stays that way. "And if you don't, you just need to give her a little time. I'm sjure you'll grow to love her."

At this she seems contempt, finishing her food, wiping her face with a napkin, and fetching her backpack from her room.

"Do you want apple juice or cranberry juice today?"

"Apple," she replies. I cringe. I'd never cared for the stuff. Despised it might be a better choice of words.

I check my watch. 7:15, right on time.

"Alright Emma, it's time to get moving," I say, hoisting her backpack onto her shoulders. She sinks into it, looking so small. For a moment my breath catches. Maybe she isn't ready for this. Maybe it's too soon.

"Mommy, my backpack is too heavy," she huffs, frowning.

I take it off, putting it onto my shoulder before reaching for her hand. She wraps it around on my fingers, smoothing down her hair with one hand, then her dress, then smiling up to me. "How do I look?"

I laugh, no longer able to keep the tears in and letting a few slip down my cheeks. I try to wipe them away as fast as I can. The last thing I want to do is add to her nerves. "Like the most beautiful girl in the world."

With that she takes the first step forward which I am grateful for because I don't know if I'd be able to.

We'd taken the walk to school many times now just to get used to it. Plus, Emma really enjoyed the playground. It was ten minutes there, not to far, but her little legs got tired quickly which meant I had to lug her at least halfway, usually coming back.

Today though, she dances through the streets, a smile on her face. She already knows the way so I let her travel a little in front of me but not much. We are not the only family traveling to school today. I see faces I recognize, some I don't. Older children walk on their own with their friends, school buses zoom by, business owners come out of their shops to wave and wish everyone a good day.

No, Emma never would have gotten this back in New York. This is why I moved. This is why it was so important.

The closer we get, the closer Emma stays, her nerves creeping up on her. She was a social butterfly but the thought of me being away worried her. I'd never had to be away, not until now. "You're not allowed to stay?" She squeaks, the shrill of her voice making it hard to understand her.

I shake my head, my heart raising into my throat. "Not today, Emma," I say. "But I'll walk you to your class and meet your teacher while you go and make some friends."

This is enough of an answer for her and as we walk through the doors of the school building - first time for her, millionth time for me - she cowers into my side and lets me navigate the way. There are only two kindergarden classrooms so it shouldn't be so hard to find.

Emma is in Mrs. Trinket's class, something I know from the email I'd gotten the night before. Room 101, right next to the stairwell. It isn't hard to miss.

The doorway is decorated in what appear to be butterflies, Mrs. Trinket spelled out across the wood in elegant handwriting. Glitter hangs from just above the door, soft music playing through the hallway, lollipops at the kids disposal. That may not have been the best idea.

Ms. Trinket is no coy person herself. Her hair is decorated - yes, decorated - with the same butterflies she'd managed to place around her room, the dress she wears appears to be butterfly wings, her makeup ghastly white and unappealing for her face, her lipstick the strangest shade of gold i'd ever seen. She'd surely outdone herself.

For a moment I worry she might actually scare Emma. Growing up in New York, she was no stranger to theatrics. She thrived on theatrics but this was a little much.

But when I look down at her, she has the biggest smile I think I've ever seen.

"Are you a butterfly?" She more than screams when she comes in close contact with Ms. Trinket. "I love butterflies!"

"Well then you are in for a treat!" Ms. Trinket says, tapping Emma on the forehead. "And tell me, what is your name?"

"Emma Everdeen," she replies, looking up at me. We'd practiced all night on the proper way of reciting her name which, until my mother informed me, I hadn't even realized was an issue. It seemed out hard work more than paid off.

"What a beautiful name," Ms. Trinket smiles. "And you must be her mother, hello."

"Hi," I say, putting my hand within hers. "Katniss Everdeen."

"Well Katniss, I think this is where we say good," Ms. Trinket says, smiling first to Emma then to me. "Emma, why don't you go sit over on the carpet over there and we'll get class started in a few moments. Say goodbye to your mother first."

Emma wastes no time wrapping her small arms around my leg, squeezing three times before pulling away, giving me the biggest smile and running of to join some of the other kids. My heart sinks.

My face must give something away because within a second, comforting hands are on my back making small circles as I fight the urge to break down. Parents around me look the same, I can't be the only one. "First days are always hard," Ms. Trinket says, smiling to me.

I can only nod my head. Words will do me no good now.

I catch one more glimpse of Emma, her bright red hair catching me eye like a little spark of light. She's smiling, making friends with the blonde boy sitting next to her and the girl sitting beside him. Their resemblance is undeniable. They must be twins. She laughs, and plays, and looks up for a moment looking to me. She waves her hand, a blows me a kiss then turns back to her friends.

"Her grandparents will be picking her up at three," I mumble.

Ms. Trinket nods. "I'll be sure she knows that at the end of the day. Thank you, Mrs. Everdeen." I don't bother correcting her.

Instead, I turn to leave. My legs feel like lead, my throat like sand.

When I walk out of the school doors, I turn the opposite way of home.

...

Why am I here? What the hell am I doing here?

In my hazy confusion it seems I have landed myself at Mellark's Bakery.

The big blue sign in the window still there, chips of paint falling from both l's, the tiny chip of wood still missing from the time we'd all come here drunk in high school. The bells still hang above the doorway the way they always had been since I could remember, the big open sign hanging on the window seal.

For a moment, I expect Mr. Mellark to come from the door, a smile on his face, cookies in hand. He would greet me, hug me, tell me how much I've grown. He would be nice, act as if nothing had changed. Like I hadn't broken his sons heart. He wouldn't be cold to me like Mrs. Mellark or awkward like Peeta's brothers, cold like his friends. No, he would be none of those things.

But he wasn't here anymore, I have to remind myself. I hug my chest a little tighter.

What had I even come here for?

To boast to Peeta about my daughters first day of school? To depress myself with thoughts of his dead father? I still felt like crying but for entirely different reasons.

It was wrong. It was wrong and it was stupid. Peeta wouldn't want to see me. I'm stupid for thinking he'd want to see me now.

The only reason he'd walked me to my car that night at the bar was because he probably assumed I'd get mugged. He did that for everyone, always had. Why did I think I was special? He'd always done those things, even back in high school. It used to unnerve me to see him walk Madge to her car at the end of the night or Glimmer or Clove.

Just as hysteria begins to creep up on me, I turn on my heel, walking the same way I just came. I realize I must have walked four miles already, maybe five. Who knows?

For a moment, I contemplate running. Running all the way home and never looking back. Home. Where was home? It seemed like such a foreign concept to me.

"Katniss," someone calls out to me. I close my eyes for a moment, slowing my brisk pace down but not stopping. I can't afford to. "Katniss!" it calls again when it's clear I'm not stepping.

A hand wraps around my elbow and I jump, pulling back with such force I almost knock Peeta off balance. He looks at me, wide-eyed and worried, as he slowly retracts his hand, raising them in mock surrender. "I forget you don't like to be touched."

I breath heavily. Had I been jogging? "Yeah, well, some things never change, huh?"

Peeta smiles shyly. "Are you okay? I saw you waiting outside the bakery for awhile. You were just kind of standing there. I got a little worried."

"I don't really know what I'm doing," I blush, embarrassed of being caught. "I thought about going in but..."

"It's weird, huh?" He mumbled. I look up at him with sad eyes which he matches. "It was always supposed to be 'my' bakery though so I guess it's not all that strange. Just a little soon."

I nod. "He would have loved what you're doing with the place. Everything is the same and I think that's all that matters," I say. "As long as you're making cheese buns, I think you'll stay in business."

Peeta manages a smile, the first real one I've see in a long time, and shrugs. "I just made some if you decide you want to come inside." When I'm silent for a long time, he adds, "I mean, they are your favorite."

"You run a tough ship, Mellark," I joke, my resolve fading as I dig an elbow into his side. It was almost a reaction.

We walk back in silence to the bakery. I realize I've made it a good three blocks. Who knew how long Peeta had been following me?

He holds the door open for me as we slip inside, the bakery empty except for Johanna Mason, a girl who'd been in our grade but necessarily our circle. Gale had mentioned she was around but I didn't know for sure.

I smile to her, raising my hand to wave but all I get in return is the nastiest looking scowl a single person could muster. But I was used to it. After all, I'd spent my last year of high school dealing with it. I'd broken the golden boy and everyone made sure I knew it.

I don't hold her to it, she's only doing what she sees fit.

"Ignore her," Peeta mumbles to me, throwing Johanna a glare of his own. She moves silently to the back then, the door closing behind her with a soft clink.

Peeta places the cheese bun before me, smiling as I waste no time devouring the pastry. It had always been my favorite and nothing came close to the way they made them at Mellark's.

"So first day of school," Peeta smirked. I look at him with the best pout I can muster and nod my head slowly. For a moment, I'd forgotten why I was so sad in the first place. Thoughts of Mr. Mellark took Emma's place but only for a moment.

"She just ran off," I tell him, my throat constricted. "Waved to me and ran off and sat on the little train carpet without another word."

"Who wouldn't?" He jokes. When he obviously sees it's not funny - at least not to me - he reaches across the table to take ahold of my arm. Once again, the touch catches me off guard and I jump. This time, he doesn't let go. "Katniss, she'll be okay."

"How can you be so sure?" I say, hysteria quickly rising in my voice, my palms sweaty. I can only imagine how horrid I must look, how deranged.

"What are you so worried about? She seems like a really great girl," he replied.

"That's just the thing. She's so open and loving and good-natured," I say. "I don't want the world to make her any different. I want her to live in the perfect little bubble she lives in now."

Peeta frowns. "Jesus Christ, Katniss, she's in kindergarden. Their not going to burn her at the stake-"

"Oh, I wouldn't expect you to understand," I hissed, retracting my arm from his reach and putting it back under the table. He looks hurt. "You don't have a child."

There's an emotion that crosses his face, one that I cannot read. It's there one second and gone the next. He doesn't make another move to touch me or to say anything. He just shrugs his shoulders.

I don't mean to be so angry. At least not towards Peeta but he is just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It seems to be a pretty common factor for him most days.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I just... She's my child, okay? I know it hasn't been easy for her living with a mother that's so..."

I trail off then, putting my head in my hands, finally giving in to the emotions I'd been feeling all day. The tears come down as my mind rattles with so many hateful comments I can't decipher which are coming from me and which are coming from others. I just sit there and cry because I don't know what else to do.

How strange would it be if somewhere were to walk in now? Come in for nothing but some coffee and a pastry and see me this way.

I only look up when I feel Peeta's arm wrap around my middle. He's trying to be comforting and I try to let him but every instinct within me is telling me to run. Run and hide and scream and kick and cry until I'm content.

"Katniss, it's okay," he soothes. "I know this must be hard for you. You just can't look at all the bad all the time."

How can he of all people tell me that? He has all the reason in the world to just look at the bad. Peeta is just such a better person than most but is that really surprising?

"But there's so much bad, Peeta," I cry. I'm not even sure he can understand the words with how labored my breathing is. "I don't want her to come here and think this is how she has to live. I don't want the children here to put her on the outside because she isn't just like them."

"Kids will be kids, Katniss. But I don't see Emma having any trouble making friends," Peeta whispers. "I think it'll be quite the opposite, really."

"I should have kept her a year," I say, mostly to myself but Peeta is here to hear it. "I should have kept her a year and let her start when she was five like the rest of those kids. She needs time to settle in and-"

"Katniss," he interrupts. "She's going to be fine! She's had all summer to settle in. You told me yourself she loves it here. It's good for her to make friends now rather than later."

Peeta had a point. It seems in the time he's taken to tell me to calm down, I've stopped crying. I wipe away at the tears falling down my cheeks quickly, embarrassed yet again. I don't act this way in front of people.

"It's been quite the morning if you haven't been able to tell," I say after awhile, sipping at the water Peeta had given me when I walked in. "Look at me, crying. Who would've ever guessed?"

Peeta smiles. "There's a soft spot somewhere in there. The right person just had to find it."

Our eyes meet, mine saying a million apologies I don't have the guts to say aloud, his doing the same. Yes, somewhere in me there's a person who isn't so nasty, so uncaring, so mean. There is a person who once embraced life and love and all that came along with it.

Peeta used to be the only person solely able to fish it out of me. But now Emma was added to the mix.

"I didn't mean to take you away from your job," I mumble. "I should probably go so you can get back to work."

Peeta shakes his head. "You don't have to do that. We're not very busy, as you can tell. Johanna is working today too so that helps."

"You and Johanna are friends?" I inquire, my curiosity getting the better of me. Being an employer was something different than being friends and it seemed they'd gotten past the roll from the looks I received when I walked in.

"Yeah," he replies. "She's a cool girl. I think you two would be really good friends."

On Jupiter, maybe.

I just shrug. "Do you work here everyday? I mean, do you get any days off?"

"Holidays, yeah," Peeta says. "But other than that, no. Seven days a week but we close at one on Sundays so, more like six."

"That just seems like a lot of work. Don't you think you should just-"

"Sit down?"

I wasn't going to say it but, yes, just sit down. I nod.

"Working keeps me sane in all honesty. I think I would've fallen apart by now if the bakery wasn't here to keep me occupied all the time, you know?" I don't know but I agree anyway. "It's a weird way to find peace, I get that, but it's the only thing I can think to do."

"You never thought about selling it?" I ask. "No one would blame you if you never wanted to see this place again, I'm sure."

"I would blame me," he answered, looking over his shoulder towards the counter.

If I think hard enough, I can remember the way Mr. Mellark used to stand back there and watch Peeta and I, back in high school, when I'd come in on his break. We used to sit at this table, eat the food he baked, listen to his mother bark about me not having to pay. Mr. Mellark would always laugh it off until she disappeared.

I turn back to the table not wanting to think about it any longer.

"You could still go," I add. "Run away to wherever you wanted to run away too, build all those restaurants, have what you wanted. You've still got the chance if you want it."

Peeta looks at me for a long moment, no emotion on his face. He chews on his nails, ruffles his hair, and takes a deep breath before he speaks. "Everyone here needs me right now. Maybe later when things, I don't know, get back to normal. When my life isn't such a mess."

It's my turn to grab his arm in sympathy.

"I still need help doing a lot," he adds. "You know, the leg isn't as easy as it looks. It can be kind of daunting at times. And I'm not ready to deal with the sympathy all over again if I go somewhere new. Most people here ignore me or at least try not to talk about it. Makes forgetting easier."

"You want to forget?" I ask.

"Absolutely."

I don't recognize him as he says the words. His eyes so glossy, so distant. He seems so far away but yet he's right here. I can touch him, smell him, feel him, but yet it seems like he's on the other side of a thin sheet of glass. Like we're as close as we can be yet not close enough.

It hadn't always been this way but we hadn't always been so damaged.

Were broken from my trance at the sound of the phone ringing from the back. Peeta looks at me with sad eyes before getting up to answer it, his voice high and cheery as he speaks to whoever is on the other line. Probably Delly. My stomach twists.

I have to go now. Things are getting too serious, too fast.

So when he comes back, I have everything gathered, the dishes washed, the chairs pushed in. There is no room for anymore hospitality. Besides, I have a job to get to.

"You're leaving so soon?" He frowns, his eyebrows pushing together. He looks hurt.

"I have to get to work," I say. It isn't a lie. I just don't have to be there for another three hours. "It's my first day too."

Peeta nods his head, giving me a small smile. "I hope you have a good first day then," he whispers. "I'm actually going out that way tomorrow, if you'll be there."

I will be there. But Finnick had said it was him and Delly's spot so would she be there too?

"I'll be there but after lunch. I have to get Emma off to school and everything before I go in so..."

"Of course," he smirked. "Well I'll see you tomorrow?"

I nod. "See you tomorrow, Peeta."

As I turn to leave my stomach flutters, something familiar coursing through me.

Hope?

* * *

Thank you all so much for the amount of support you've given me throughout this story. I really appreciate it.

Secondly, I want to bring up a feeling of mine I felt after watching Catching Fire yesterday (for the 3rd time!). I'm actually slightly annoyed with the way Peeta is portrayed in the movies. Not by Josh Hutcherson's acting but how weak they make his character appear. They did a little better job with in cooperating him into the movie in Catching Fire, but in the books Peeta is not as helpless as he is in the movies.

He's sarcastic and rude (not very often but at times) and devious. Not all the time but he's not so dependent on Katniss the way he is in the movies. He can more than function on his own but choses not too and I feel like the movie portrays the opposite. Not that I don't love the movie, but still.

I wish they gave Peeta just a little more credit.

Anyway, there's my rant.

Thanks!

-B


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I wake in the morning to the smell of fresh coffee and roses. I've never cared for the smell of either and the unpleasant nature of both wake me from my haze.

I lie still for a moment, arms outstretched as I listen to the bustle coming from outside my door, watching the shadows as feet pass before the opening numerous times, a soft song coming from whomever my intruder is.

I should be more worried that someone I don't know is in my apartment, using my things, while I lie here completely defenseless if it were to be someone dangerous. But they would have killed me by now if that were the case, no? At least, that's what I'm counting on.

So instead of making quick work of putting on my leg that lies in the corner, I take my time attaching the thing because if there is one thing you don't want to rush, it's attaching a prosthetic. I'd learned that the hard way after about two months of having the thing. One morning where I'd lazily strapped it on left me in bed for a week with blisters the size of baseballs on my wound. It hadn't been pleasant.

When I finally open the door to my bedroom, Delly is sitting at the island in my kitchen, magazine in hand, sipping from the coffee cup that had become 'her' cup. Mostly because the pink stain of her lipstick is irreversible but nevertheless.

"Good morning," she greets, smiling from ear to ear. No one should be this happy this early in the morning, I'm convinced. But Delly is. "You look exhausted!"

I mumble something, a greeting perhaps but I'm not to sure. I take a seat beside her at the island, not saying anything as she gathers my coffee, fixes me a bagel, waits on my like a wife would her husband. Before, these things wouldn't have bothered me. But now, they made my stomach feel uneasy.

"What're you doing up so early," I grunt, my voice still rough from my sleep, my eyes already drooping to cloud my vision. It was obvious the medicines meant to keep my asleep had yet to wear off. This only means I'll need to schedule a nap if I want today to be a productive one.

"I hope I didn't bother you," she replies. "I went to a yoga class by the beach this morning and then decided to pop on over!" I could have easily come to that conclusion by the thin layer of sweat on her body and the clothes she wears. I just hadn't bothered to look. I nod.

"If you want to shower, feel free," I offer.

Delly smiles, placing breakfast in front of me, her face coming almost too close to mine in a gesture that's meant to be intimate but is somehow suffocating. I try to hide my annoyance, simply giving her a tight liped smile and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek.

When I pull away, she looks less than satisfied but doesn't try again. Instead she turns on her heel and makes her way to the bathroom, grabbing the over night bag - so she must have been planning for this - and closing the bathroom door, the sound of the shower overlapping the sounds in my head.

Just as I take my first bite of breakfast, Delly pops her head out, a towel snug around her upper body. I try not to look but even if I did, I'm not sure it would do much for me. I groan internally.

We'd only had sex once, a few weeks after the accident, a few days after I'd come home. It was a rough day. One where the hardcore medicines had finally rounded there course and I was left with nothing but the raw pain, both from my leg and in my heart.

Delly was there to comfort me during the night, through the nightmares and episodes until I was able to stop crying and, if I was lucky, fall asleep. She was there, then her lips, then her body, and one thing led to another and before I knew it, we were connected in the most intimate way possible.

Of course, I'd started to panic though, mid thrust, there was little I could do to stop it. I looked down at my body sliding into her's - something that would always bring me to the breaking point with Katniss - and felt nothing. I felt empty, and sick, and dirty.

I don't remember exactly what happened next, just that she'd spent the next few days trying to comfort me the same way again, only this time, I knew better than to give in. In no way was Delly using me. She was just trying to make me feel better in a way that was making me feel worse.

I hadn't thought about sex since then.

"I left your present by the door if you want to open it while I'm in the shower. I'd prefer you did, actually," Delly suggests. I frown as she slips back into the bathroom, the door locking.

Present? What did I need presents for? It wasn't my birthday, I was sure. It wasn't her birthday. It wasn't Christmas or Valentines Day or any other cliche holiday. It was a Thursday. Nothing more than that.

It takes my awhile but when I finally reach the small present, it takes me what feels like years to dig through the wrapping and paper and sweet little charms Delly has thrown into the bag. Finally, after scrambling through the bottom for whatever it holds, I find a box. In the box, a watch.

The note on the top of it reads:

_Peeta,  
_

_This may be a little much, I realize. But a year has come and gone and I felt you deserved something special for our anniversary. _

_We may not be a traditional couple, but whatever we are, I am grateful for. Thank you for being so wonderful to me over these 12 months. _

_Happy one year!_

_Delly_

My head hits the counter with a heavy thud once I read the last line, her name outlined in hearts, mine in stars. Like we were in the eighth grade. We might as well be. I was still the naive little boy who couldn't seem to tell the girl he didn't like her anymore and the other one he was still in love with her.

Did I just say love? Oh no.

It seems I'd lost track of the days in the time of my sulking. A year had gone by like that and I had yet to notice. Maybe that is what all the calls from my doctors had been about. A year had gone by and they wanted to know how my leg was, how life as a cripple was treating me.

I knew I should have listened to the messages.

But Delly. Of course Delly would remember. After all, she was a good person. Had she expected me to remember? I could blame it on the medicines. That would not be completely lying. Would it be fair to her? No. But nothing really was these days.

I scavenge for anything within my house, anything small and of meaning that I might have stored, packed away from a ex or maybe a forgotten present from my parents. But there's nothing. Nothing but a picture frame that would remain without a picture. I didn't allow those anymore. Not these days.

I should just tell her the truth. Tell her that my mind has been scattered lately and that, obviously, this important day had just gotten lost in the shuffle. She would understand, hug me and tell me everything was alright.

After all she's done for me - for my family - I know, at least for this moment right now, that's not an option. For once, the truth might hurt.

So I grab ahold of my jacket and shoes, rummaging through a pile of bills until I find my house keys, scribbling a note to Delly on a left over piece of parchment paper, lying it atop my dishes so I'm sure she'll see it.

_Be back soon. Went to get some groceries for tonight, i_t reads, my handwriting messy and swirly, obviously the after math of my panic.

Moments like this would be so much easier if I had a car. Well, I had a car but not one that I drove. It hadn't moved from it's parking spot in a year. The poor thing may not even run anymore. I wouldn't be too surprised if a family of raccoons had started living in it either.

But there's no time to think about that. Instead, I bundle all my belongings and I rush out of the door, making the three mile walk to the grocery store as quickly as I possibly can.

I ignore the looks I get as I navigate through the flurry of people bustling their kids off to school, a few teenagers lagging around their cars while most yell and scream and a few cry in the corner with their friends. Just another day in Panem.

A few call out to me though I'm not sure how they know my name. Probably a sibling of one of my friends. Someone I'd forgotten about who was growing older that hadn't forgotten about me. Thinking about it, Marvel's brother might be nearing sixteen now, maybe he was turning seventeen.

I look over my shoulder but whoever it was is gone in a crowd of faces I don't recognize. I keep moving.

The grocery store couldn't seem farther today and as I lug myself through the doors, I let out a sigh at the air conditioned facility. No one's here. No one but the five workers who were forced to come take the early portion of the evening. I smile to them.

I make my way to the back of the store, wondering desperately what in the world I could do to save this day. Well, in my mind I was saving the day. Delly still had no idea I'd even forgotten about it.

But I couldn't think of a single thing Delly enjoyed to eat. Nothing but the damn salad she always ordered. It seemed the only time we spent together was for meals, not a lot of talking but plenty of eating. I just hadn't paid too much attention.

Looking at the aisle of meat, the only thing that comes to mind is the lamb stew I used to make for Katniss. The one with plums and wild rice and that creamy sauce I used to make from the broth. We'd have it for everything - birthdays, anniversary's, holidays. I hadn't made it in years but looking at the chunk of meat in front of me, my mouth water's.

I shake my head from side to side then before my mind starts to run. This is not for Katniss. This is for Delly and she may not like that. I have to think of something she likes. God what does-

"Peeta Mellark," someone calls from behind me, a sturdy hand coming to clasp down on my back. I shrug off the touch.

Trying my best to compose my face, not show my obvious frustration, I turn to meet my guest.

And here I am, face to face with Gale Hawthorne, not looking a day over sixteen. This grocery store seemed to be the prime spot for awkward meetings. I should really start dressing nicer when I make the trips, I guess.

Gale Hawthorne and I had never been friends. We'd never been friends but, then again, we'd never hated each other either. We were both just apart of Katniss's life in different ways that neither of us were used too nor could we understand.

It was a never ending battle for dominance in the beginning of Katniss and I's relationship. He had a hard time understanding that a boyfriend meant I was the one Katniss called for help and I was the one Katniss would be spending her free time with.

At first, she'd tried to make it work. Tried to make us "understand" each other but it was clear that wasn't going to happen. We were too different and anyone from a hundred miles away could see it. Eventually, she stopped trying and realized the only logical thing to do was keep the two of us apart.

Things got better from then on.

What really surprised me about Gale Hawthorne was his sympathy for me "after". I expected him to hit me, scream at me, publicly embarrass me whenever he could. He was home at this point. But he didn't.

The next time I saw him, he actually hugged me. The most awkward, uncomfortable, surprising thing I could've imagined.

Of course, we went on ignoring each other after that but whatever tension was between us, seemed to have gone or at least was swept under the rug for the sake of, I don't know, maybe a friendship?

But I hadn't seen him since the accident. At least not up close. He was at the funeral but _everybody_ was. I didn't have much time to think about it then.

"Gale, hey," I greet, taking a moment to shift the stick of lamb in my hand. I shake his hand.

"How are you doing," he asks, not sincerely in a way that makes me feel small, just in the way you would ask anybody that's been through life altering changes.

I can say I've always liked this about Gale. He's never too much of anything. Never too nice, or too funny, or too mean. He never really cares too much or spends too much time on anything. He kind of floats from thing to thing, feeling to feeling. It's this that surprises me how he's managed to keep Madge on his arm for so long.

I nod. "You know," I mummer. "Bakeries kind of dying down now that summer's coming to an end so I'm really just trying to stay busy."

"I understand," he says. "The tire shop is pretty lonely without all those over privileged little high school shits sticking around to help me out during the summer. Good thing Catnip is around to keep my company, you know?"

Catnip, the only nickname Katniss would ever allow and it's only allowed to come from him. It always annoyed me but now, I felt nothing. Once again, the medicines doing wonders.

"Yeah, I know. It's a good thing Johanna graduated last year or I'm sure I'd be totally alone in all of this," I tell him, not knowing what else to say. I didn't really want the conversation leaning towards Katniss.

But I knew it was inevitable and sooner or later, one of us would say something, bring it up. She was the only common factor between us and there wasn't much use in ignoring it.

"Johanna's still working there?" Gale asks, his eyebrows creasing together.

My confused expression accurately matches his own. "Yeah, why?"

Gale let's out a quick laugh, looking at the tiled ground as he shakes his head from side to side. "Don't tell anyone I told you this, but we may have kind of sort of went out a few times during high school when she was a sophomore and I was a senior."

My eyes bulge. "No way!" I practically yell. Gale nods. "That's crazy. She never told me that!"

"I'm sure it wasn't her brightest moment," he says modestly. "Yeah, we're too alike. We never would have worked. Both too outspoken. That's what drove me to her and drove me away."

I want to say I don't understand what he's saying but I do. I understand perfectly. "Yeah, I get it."

There's a moment of awkward silence before Gale forces himself to smile. It's unnatural and for a moment, I prefer the scowl I'm so used to seeing. "You know, I think you've made this whole moving back thing a lot easier for her."

He doesn't have to say names. We all know who 'her' is. Every man has a 'her', and mine is no secret to anyone.

"It sucks she even had to come back," I whisper after a while, no longer able to look him in the eye. "Sucks I did too but, you know. Having good friends around you helps."

Gale smiles, unconvinced by my words. "You and Katniss will never be friends, Peeta. I'd thought you'd have learned that by now."

"I'm seeing someone," I say defensively.

"And when has that ever stopped anyone?" I shrug, trying to fight off his words before they cement themselves too deep into my mind to be dug out. "I'm just saying, I'm glad you're both back here for each other."

"It isn't like we'd really planned it," I replied.

"But everything happens for a reason, no?"

I had believed that at one point in my life but not so much now. Things happened for a lot of reasons and I'm not sure it was _for_ a reason. Things happened because of circumstance, because of placement, because of treatment. Things happened because you made them happen, not because the universe was trying to revise your life.

Versus saying any of this aloud, I shrug. "Never thought I'd see the day when Gale Hawthorne was advocating for my relationship with his best friend."

"That was before," he says. "You were both stupid kids then. You both have been through some stuff by now and have toughened up. You didn't know anything about love."

But I did. At least, I thought I did.

"Nothing really has changed," I whisper, suddenly feeling melancholy. "Not between us, at least. It wasn't like we were talking in the time we were away."

Gale shrugs, having no argument there. We hadn't spoken in four years - five, really. Nothing between _us_ had changed. Only our lives. The individual lives we'd built for ourselves.

"Anyway, congrats about Madge Undersee," I say, changing the subject. "I heard about the engagement and all and I think it's really cool. You two have always been such a great couple." I don't sound like myself, I sound like my mother and it scares me.

"Thanks, man," Gale smiles. "I don't know how I managed that one but somehow it worked out." I smile, too. "I mean, the Undersee's aren't too happy with her for running off with the man from the tire shop but we're happy so that's all that matters."

"Sounds like my older brother, Wheaton," I say. "My mother is about ready to pull her hair out with him. About to be thirty and hasn't found a single women he's interested in. My mother doesn't get that he doesn't want to settle with just anyone. My father was always the understanding one."

I look down then, mostly because I haven't spoken about my father in a long time. At least not in the past tense. It still hurt, still a knife twisting in my stomach.

Gale's father died a while ago too. Some sort of accident at work. We were about ten so he must've been twelve. I don't remember much and I doubt he does. Never in the years of knowing Katniss had she brought it up so maybe it was something no one talked about.

But nevertheless, I knew he had some insight as to what it felt like. What it felt like to lose someone so close to you so suddenly, so without cause or warning.

Maybe he doesn't know what it's like to lose a limb in the process but no one really does.

"Hey Peeta, if you ever want to come by the tire shop," he starts. "You're more than welcome too. I could use some male time. My brothers makes me want to pull my hair out and Katniss can get whiny after awhile." He waits a second before adding, "I think we could be friends, Peeta. If you want a friend."

I feel both uneasy and touched by his words. But I can't find the right words to say the right thing so instead, I slip my palm inside of his, squeezing his hand tighter than I normally would. "Thanks, Gale."

"Do you want a ride home," he offers. "Katniss doesn't tell me much but she did tell me you don't drive anymore. And it can't be a nice walk on the leg." He motions down to my prosthetic that's unable to be hidden in the shorts I wear. Normally I wouldn't do this but today, I was in such a rush I didn't have time to really care.

"You don't have to," I mumble. "I'm not done here and I'm sure you want to get back to Madge, anyway."

Gale shakes his head. "No, man. Really. Just let me take you. It's no problem."

For some reason, I let him.

...

Delly is fast asleep on the couch when I make it home, her phone in one hand, book in the other as she sleep soundly, her lips parted slightly. Her face so innocent, so undisturbed. It's the first time I've seen her like this in months.

I don't even consider waking her. Instead, I move around my home as quietly as possible, unpacking the groceries I'd bought and the flowers and the perfume I was sure she wouldn't even like. Gale had convinced me to buy it.

I settle on lasagna. Everyone likes lasagna and it's simple enough. My father used to make it all the time, mostly when we had guests. Katniss had always favored it.

And so it begins. Even as Delly sleeps fifteen feet away from me, my mind runs elsewhere to thoughts of a happier time. One with Katniss and my father and my friends.

I'd always said if high school was the best time of your life, you weren't living. But it seemed now I was stuck in that realm. I'd fallen into the god-forsaken category and I couldn't find a way out.

I don't know when Delly wakes but I'm nearly done when she does. Her hair is a mess, her makeup smeared, the glasses she wears today turned sideways on her face. I might laugh but I don't do that much anymore.

"When did you get home?" She croaks, moving to stretch her muscles, the small top she's wearing exposing her lower half. "I didn't even hear you."

"I guess about an hour ago," I answer, my eyes scanning over to the clock above the stove. I'd been going on auto pilot. I feel Delly's arm snake around my middle as I put the finishing touches on the pan before throwing it in the oven. I fight the urge to pull away. She deserves this. "I didn't want to wake you. You looked pretty peaceful."

Delly smiles. "Yeah, it was nice. I got up pretty early."

I don't answer. Just finish dinner.

"Did you like the watch?" She asks then, her lips moving to ghost over my shoulder. I shudder but not in a good way. "My father said you would but I didn't know. You don't wear watches too much, I figured you could use a nice one."

"You really didn't have to do that for me, Delly," I reply. "But I really liked the watch, thank you. I know this isn't jewelry or anything but-"

"I love it, Peeta. Really," she interrupts, moving around me to pour herself a glass of wine. "I think I'm going to freshen up a bit. Call me out when dinner's ready."

I watch her until she retreats back into my bedroom, the door closing behind her softly. I lean my head against the cabinets and pray for an end.

...

Dinner is quite. The food is good, wine is great, but the company lacks.

It seems in the first twenty minutes we've run out of things to say, things to laugh about, jokes to tell. A lot of the meal is spent with awkward silences and occasional comments about the weather. It's as if we're two people meeting each other for the first time.

I never felt this way with Katniss. Every time felt like the first time, but never in an awkward way. It felt that way in the sense that there was so much to each of us that the other had yet to uncover. By the time we'd pealed back all the layers, we were years into our relationship. There was something new, something exciting to look forward to each day.

I should call her after dinner, maybe once Delly's asleep if she spends the night or once she leaves. Was this sneaking around? Was this cheating? It wasn't in any literal sense but it had some implications I couldn't ignore.

Looking to Delly, her beautiful face, I felt guilty. Like I was hiding.

"This is really good, Peeta," she says for the hundredth time, finishing off the little plate she had allowed me to serve her and pushing the china away. "Are you done?" Her eyes wander to my empty plate.

I lick my lips. "Yeah, I guess I am. I shouldn't be eating too many carbs anyway. You know-"

I don't get a chance to finish my sentence because within the next moment her lips are on mine. Moving slowly, then quickly, then she incorporates her tongue somewhere in the moment until, finally, she settles on simply biting my lips. I'm so shocked I don't have a moment to react before she's pulling away with a sad look in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" She pants, moving a hand to tangle in my hair when I still don't reply. "Don't you want this? It's been a few months, Peeta. I feel like-"

"Delly, wow," I mutter, disentangling her from me, moving her hands to her side and far away from me. This is too much. It's all way too much and my head is spinning. "I just, I don't know what you want."

Delly looks at me for a long time, her blue eyes meeting mine, her lips pressed together in a tight line, her blonde hair spastic, lipstick smudged. She doesn't say anything, her jaw clenching and unclenching. She seems to be trying to make her mind up about something.

In my mind I wonder if this is the moment when she walks. When she grabs her things and goes because there is nothing left to do. I wouldn't blame her if she did. Could anybody really? I actually might applaud her.

But versus leaving, storming out and making a big scene, she simply moves her hands to the top of her shirt - actually, my shirt - and begins to undo the buttons until she's standing before me in nothing but a pale blue bra and underwear set, lace at the sides.

I gulp. Not because I'm turned on but because I don't know the appropriate way to ask a nearly naked girl to please - _please_ - put her clothes back on. Not because she isn't beautiful and I don't like it. Just because, like I said before, it's too much.

As Delly moves closer to me, her hips swaying unnaturally, I take a moment to really wonder if I could do this. I am only twenty-four and just because my mind is rejecting what's taking place before me doesn't mean my body is. I could very well do this with her, make her feel good, make her feel wanted.

She deserved that in contrast to all the emotional instability she has to deal with.

But just as I'm about to give way to whatever it is she's offering, something in my eyes must tell her the opposite because she pulls away suddenly, her eyes gleaming with tears as her lips part slowly.

"Delly," I muttered, reaching a hand out to grab hers but she pulls it back to her body without a second thought, moving to pick up her discarded shirt. Her tears are falling freely now. "Delly."

Delly lets me hold her. She lets me pull her close to my body in an intimate way, just not the way she'd had in mind. She shudders. "I'm trying to make this a good day," she finally says. "I just wanted this to be a good day."

All she wanted was to have a good day and I'm so selfish I couldn't even give her that. Delly deserved a million good days and for some reason, she was fighting for one with me.

"I just thought you might be ready for this," Delly cried. "I don't know why. I'm so embarrassed."

"It's not you," I whisper again. "I just..."

"I know, Peeta. I know," she hissed. "Maybe I should go. I think I'd feel better if I just went."

"You don't want to stay? Just for awhile. You don't have to spend the night."

"I think I should just go," Delly answers. She moves away from me, grabbing her things without another word before slipping through the door and into the dark. I don't move until I hear the roar of her car on the usually quiet street, then silence.

I don't know how long I sit in that uncomfortable seat in my kitchen, my back aching, my leg begging to be abandoned. But I do because I don't know what else to do. I don't know wether I want to yell or scream or cry. Maybe all three but I just sit there.

Without second guessing it, I grab my phone, dialing the number I know by heart. I wait to hear the voice of the only person on this earth whom could bring some light to this day. When I do, it's like the angels have opened up the skies.

"Peeta?"

For a minute I'm worried I'll cry. It's a strong possibility and as I listen to the breathing on the other side of the line, I try my hardest to keep my voice strong, myself together.

"Peeta?" Katniss calls again, her voice growing in alarm.

"Hey," I say finally, my voice cracking.

"Peeta. Are you okay?" She asks.

"Are you busy?" I mumble. Maybe I shouldn't be calling this late. She had a child to take care of, to watch. "I shouldn't be calling. I shouldn't be-"

"Peeta, calm down. What's wrong?" She interrupts. "Are you alright?"

I nod my head before realizing she can't see me. "I'm fine," I reply. "I actually don't know why I'm calling. I just kind of-"

"You don't need a reason to call, Peeta," Katniss responded. "We're friends. Friends can call each other unannounced."

We were? We were friends? I can't see Delly being very fond of that.

"Right, sorry," I whisper. "I just haven't had friends in so long, I kind of forget how it works."

Katniss laughs on the other side of the phone. "Well we have something in common, don't we?"

I smile for the first time today. "It's my one year anniversary," I say then because she needs to know. Not really that she needs to know but because I need to talk to someone about it.

Katniss is silent on the other side of the phone for quite some time and I worry I've scared her off. But we were friends. And friends talked about these kinds of things, no? Like I said, it'd been a long time since I had a friend other than Johanna and Finnick.

"Well shouldn't you be celebrating?" Her voice is small, like she's trying to keep it together. Or maybe she's just near Emma and needs to be quiet. Possibilities are endless.

"I should be but I can't," I tell her. "I don't know. I don't feel like celebrating so instead I'm sulking."

"That's not very nice, Peeta," she tells me honestly. "What did Delly get you?"

"A watch," I reply. It'll go untouched though. I don't ever wear watches. From the way Katniss scoffs, she knows it. "I made dinner and stuff but she just ended up going home."

"Not in the mood for sex?" Katniss's voice is light and it's obviously a joke but my stomach still knots.

"No, not really."

"That's not the Peeta I know," she says. I can hear her smile through the phone.

Sex with Katniss was something different. It wasn't sex, it was making love. At least, that's what it was to me. She was my first. Not my last but my first and that always holds a special place in your heart so maybe I'm being biased to what Katniss and I shared.

Regardless, it was something different entirely.

"Things change, I guess."

"What did you want to talk about, Peeta?" I don't know what I wanted to talk about, I'm not sure I even wanted to talk. I think I just wanted to hear her voice and I tell her so. "Well do you want me to tell you about my exciting first week of work?"

She jumps into a story about her job and how terrible of a waitress she is and how the customers she works with tip her so much because they feel sorry for her. She talks to him endlessly about the type of fries they have at the restaurant and how much Emma loved their doughnuts.

Katniss laughs and I can't help but do the same.

My heart beats quickly, happiness coursing through me for the first time today.

* * *

How was it? Did you like it?

Please review and let me know! Thank you for all the support!

-B


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Mommy!"

It only takes me a moment to get to my feet. In fact, I'm, in a way, proud of my athleticism in this instance. My feet are on the ground and pumping within a second, winding down the small hallway, the thirty steps it takes to get to Emma's room at regular speed only taking me ten today.

I don't know what my plan is. I'm a small girl. But whatever it is, I'm preparing myself for. I would jump hurdles for Emma without a moment's thought. And the way she screamed plays in my head over and over again only building my adrenaline.

But when I swing the door open to her room, there is no fire or intruder or blood. Nothing I was expecting. Just Emma, standing in the middle of the room, screaming at the top of her lungs, her hands in her hair, something held tightly in her hands.

"Emma," I call out. "Emma, what's wrong?" My hurried touches don't stop her screaming and shaking and crying. I grab at her arm rather roughly and that finally seems to snap her out of her haze, at least for a moment. Finally she looks at me, her grey eyes looking so much like mine, glossy and lost as the tears begin to fall down her cheeks.

"Emma, baby," I whisper, running a hand through her curls until she settles down. I look her body up and down, trying to look for signs of any obvious damage. I can't find any. No cuts, scratches, or bruises. Just a few white scars I find on her arms from our days in New York at the parks. "Talk to me."

Then she holds out her hand, a small white tooth in her palm as she continues to yell as loudly as she can. Then I see the missing space in her teeth where the tooth used to be, bloody and vacant.

"My teeth are falling out," she cries, her sobs making it even harder to understand her. "My teeth are falling out and I'm going to be like Greasy Sae from next door." I can't help but smile at the mention of our old neighbor in New York.

She's scared, is all. I can say, I didn't expect her to lose her teeth so early or else I would've warned her such things are supposed to happen. I thought I had some time before I had to introduce her to the tooth fairy. But it seems life had pushed that along.

I make a mental note to call the dentist and make sure this is normal.

"Baby, this is what's supposed to happen," I tell her, prying the tooth from her grip and tossing it into my pocket. "When you lose a baby tooth, a grownup tooth grows in it's place. It's why mommy's and daddy's have big teeth and little girls and boys have tiny ones."

The concept goes over her head and she blinks at me without recollection. She's about to start crying harder when I introduce the theory of the "tooth fairy" to her. The idea of getting money - pocket change, really - puts a smile on her face.

"So all I have to do is put my tooth underneath the pillow and they'll come?" She smiles as I nod my head. "Mommy, we have to take all my teeth out!" She yells excitedly, pulling at her in tact teeth.

I push her hands away. "When you have a lose tooth, we'll start pulling them but until then, we'll just have to wait until the time comes."

Emma doesn't really care for the idea but she doesn't say anything else about it. When I finally take a look around her room, the state it's in almost brings me to tears. Toys litter the floor, clothes go unhung in her closet, shoes discarded all around the room. I'd been lenient when it came to picking up being it was her first week of school, but now I knew things could no longer be this way.

"Emma Grace," I scold. "What in the world happened to this room?"

Hands on her hips, obviously preparing for a showdown, she glares at me. "I need some help cleaning up. This room is too big for me to clean all by myself, mommy," she says. The room was no bigger than the one she had in New York. Excuses, excuses, excuses.

"Grandma and grandpa are on their way over here right now and if these things don't get picked up, they will not be very happy with you!" I threaten. It isn't entirely the truth but it scares her enough into picking up the toys on the floor. The clothes, I agree to do and we make a pretty efficient team.

"Don't tell grandma and grandpa about my tooth yet," Emma says midway through cleaning. "I want to tell Aunt Prim and Uncle Gale first."

I frown. "Why's that, honey?"

She doesn't answer, just continues to clean. I don't push the subject, mostly because she probably has no idea what she's talking about. She's four. You can't blame her for having a mind that went a million different directions.

When the doorbell rings, Emma is on her feet in a second, running to meet her grandparents midway as they stride through the door. I'd forgotten I'd given them a key.

My father hoists Emma up over his shoulders, her head nearly hitting the top of the ceiling as she giggles excitedly, making patterns with her fingertips. My mother grabs at her little feet, examining the pink nail polish on her toes that she had talked me into doing. "What a beautiful color, Emmy," my mother smiles.

"Mommy did them," Emma sings. "All the girls at school like them, even some of the boys!"

"Boys?" My father asks, placing her on the ground and running a hand through her hair. He bends to her level, making the best look of disgust he can possibly manage. "What are you doing talking to boys?"

"Everyone is our friend, grandpa," Emma says.

"That's a nice way of thinking," my mother says. I hadn't noticed but she'd already moved to my kitchen, washing and drying the dishes in my sink which, I swear, were going to get done at one point or another. "Katniss, honey, did you get your sisters text?"

I hadn't looked at my phone since early this morning when Emma has insisted on watching ten episodes of Spongebob on Netflix. The thing had long been forgotten. I shake my head. "No, I haven't checked my phone."

"She's really sorry she couldn't make it today," my father tells me, still giving his undivided attention to Emma who was now entertaining herself with the dolls she'd brought into the living room.

"She would be here but things at school are really busy right now as I'm sure you could understand." I don't understand because I never went to college but I say nothing. "She really wanted to come see Emma."

I nod my head sadly, wanting to let the conversation go. I'm sure Prim did want to come see Emma, I was just the problem in her coming to do so. Things had been different since I'd come home and no one could tell me any differently.

My sweet, little sister who I left behind so many years ago wasn't all that sweet and little anymore. It was taking some adjusting and maybe I wasn't doing the best at trying to make the relationship work. I hadn't talked to her in about a week but that conversation had been solely about Emma's first day at school. She hadn't bothered to ask about my job or my apartment or my life in general.

I tried not to care. As long as she was nice and patient and loving to her niece, what else could I really hope for?

"It's okay. There are plenty of other weekends for her to come see Emma," I mumble, trying not to let my annoyance creep into my voice. I was having a good day. I really, really was.

"Don't be so angry, Katniss," my mother scolds below her breath so Emma won't hear. I ignore her. She should know by now I'm just an angry person and there is nothing that can bend or break me from that. Twenty-four years later and she still doesn't understand the person I am.

At least she doesn't want to believe it.

My mother and I always had a complicated relationship, at least from what I can remember. I was too much of my father except I wasn't blind to her dependency. I didn't care to be waited on or spoken too or treated like a small child. So when Prim came along and she'd finally found a daughter who enjoyed all of it, she'd left me to my own devices and we've never captured a relationship.

Both Prim and my father try to convince me to talk to her. After all, a girl needs her mother. I'm the one who wants nothing to change. I'm okay with the way things are.

"She's not angry, Lillian," my father comes to my defense. My mother looks as if she's about to argue but decides against it, moving to sit on the couch where Emma plays. I turn to my father who shrugs. "You need to give her a break."

"I said nothing," I snap, my voice low as I bend to pick up Emma's toys. "She should get some tougher skin and maybe my facial expressions wouldn't bother her so much."

"Katniss," my father warns. He came to my defense on most things but still, hearing my talk so sourly about my mother often times made him angry. I apologize. "Forget about it. What are you doing today?"

"Going to the park and then I think we're going to see Haymitch," I tell him. "He called last week and told me to stop by his house whenever I was free."

Haymitch was my father's half-brother, both related by their mothers, the only sibling one another had. After my grandmother died when I was thirteen, I stopped seeing so much of him. In my mother's opinion, he was an old drunk with a sour sense of humor that just made things uncomfortable.

But I'd always liked Uncle Haymitch despite the alcohol on his breath and the constant ridicule.

"Tell him I said hello, would you?" My father asks, his eyebrows shooting up. Secretly, I feel he feels sad about the relationship he'd formed with his brother. I hope Prim and I never end up that way.

"You could tell him yourself," I start. "I'm sure he'd be real happy to see you. He always asks about you when he calls me."

"Until that man goes to rehab, I'm not going over there," my father snaps, obviously tired of talking about it. "I can't sit there and watch my little brother throw his life away for what? Never married, no stable job, no kids, an apartment half the size of-"

"Oh leave him alone, dad," I scold. "He's a lot happier than most people who have those things!" I didn't want to hear what my father thought of Haymitch being I had a very good chance of becoming him. My parents could deny it all they want but it was true. "Will you hand this to Emma and tell her she needs to take her vitamins."

"Will do."

...

The park is vacant when we arrive, everything gone untouched due to the cooling weather. Most families stayed inside today, probably watched a large amount of movies, maybe ordered in some pizza, made it a treat for their kids. I probably should've done the same but I had to do something to drive the energy out of Emma.

As soon as I open the door and unbuckle her booster seat, she's on her feet, running for the slide as I struggle to keep up with her. Her hair flops in the wind, her boots too big for her feet, a smile on her face as she laughs loudly.

"Mommy! Mommy, come play!" She calls from the top of the playground, flailing her arms over her head so I'd be able to see her.

I give her a tight lipped smile and raise my hand, sitting on the park bench with the book I'd brought. "I'm gonna sit here, sweetie. Call me if you need anything, okay?"

Emma pouts, only for a minute, before running off to create her own adventure. I try not to hover over her. I know she prefers to be left alone at the park even if, for now, she thinks she wants me around.

I've been sitting for half an hour when someone sits opposite me on the bench, the twins I'd seen seated next to Emma at school running before me, calling loudly for their friend as they struggle to find her. I smile.

"Is this seat taken?" A male voice asks before sitting down.

I shake my head, gathering my things into my lap that I'd sprawled across the bench, turning my head a fraction of an inch.

I don't recognize him at first, the dusty blonde hair, hazel eyes, strong cheek bones. The sweat shirt he wears is much too big for his small frame, the track pants he wears wrapping around his ankles, socks tucked in underneath. It takes a moment or two to digest it but when I do, I only wait a moment before throwing my arms around his neck.

"Rye!" I nearly scream, almost knocking us both off the bench with the force of my body. "Oh my god, what are you doing here?"

He laughs. "Shouldn't I be asking you the same thing?"

I run a hand nervously through my hair realizing he's probably right. Me being here was more of a rare occurrence these days, I'm sure. "I guess," I mumble, looking back towards Emma and allowing an appropriate amount of space between the two of us. I mean, he was married and I was... well, anyway. "I didn't know the twins were yours. Their in Emma's class."

Rye smiles. "Cash and Emily," he says. "Yeah, they love Emma."

"They look just like your mother," I whisper. Their light blonde hair differed so much from the boys. They took after Mr. Mellark's dusty waves but the eyes were the same, Emily's a softer shade of blue but Cash's the same as all the Mellark men. It was a staple almost.

"Lets just hope they don't act like her," he replies, moving to shift the Ray Bans he wears on his face. I say nothing. The way Mrs. Mellark was wasn't a secret to anyone but no one really commented on it. No one but the boys. "I almost couldn't believe Emma was yours. She looks nothing like you but once I saw those eyes, there was no doubt in my mind."

I look at Emma and a smile crosses my face. "Yeah, she doesn't look too much like me. I hope she doesn't act like me either but I feel she got the best from the both of us," I tell him. "But everybody thinks that about their kids, right?"

Rye shakes his head. "I'll tell you what, Cash can lie out of his ass at the drop of a dime," he says. "Yesterday, I found him - literally saw him with my own two eyes - eating ice cream out of the can at like, I don't know, midnight. And he had the nerve to tell me this morning that it was Emily and he'd never seen the thing before."

I laugh, smiling as Rye reenacts the whole scenario with bigger antics than necessary. But that had always been Rye, the theatrical one. At times, the two of us got along better than Peeta and I did. We just understood each other in an older sibling way.

Safe to say he was the only Mellark brother who was nice to me after the break up and everything that happened. It wasn't like before but he never hesitated to speak to me in the class we had with one another or drive me home if he saw I didn't have a ride.

I'd actually cried when he'd gone off to college leaving me alone to fend for myself senior year. But that had been a rough one.

"I can't believe you're married," I say, pointing to the silver band on his finger. "Seems like just yesterday you were trying to pluck up the courage to ask Lavinia on a date, now look at you!"

Rye smiles, looking aged as he does so. "A house, two kids, and a dog later, huh?" He jokes. "I'm living the American dream, Katniss, it's crazy."

"Peeta told me you live in the next town over?" I ask. By the ways his eyebrows raise I can only assume he didn't know Peeta and I were talking again. I try not to let this unsettle me but I can already feel the butterflies in my stomach working their magic.

"Yeah but, we decided to move closer to town so the kids could go to school over here and I could help Peeta out whenever he needs it," he explains. "I feel kind of bad that Wheaton and I threw this on him."

I'd be lying if I said I didn't blame the two older boys for not coming back and taking over Peeta's responsibilities. Sure, they lost someone too but it wasn't their limbs at stake. "He'd always been fond of the bakery though," I whisper. "I don't really think he minds running it."

"He'd always loved the bakery, yeah, but he never wanted it," Rye added. "I don't know. We all kind of thought dad would run it until he got really old and couldn't anymore. Then we'd sell it and all go about our business in making new lives."

I could understand what he's saying because I knew that is exactly what Peeta had wanted, just from knowing the boy in his younger days. He'd always wanted a bakery, just not _the_ bakery.

"But you got to play with the cards you get, right?" He mumbles, throwing his hands up in defeat.

I look down to my feet, my shoes dusty from the sand in the playground, my hands tying and untying the strings on Emma's backpack. "I'm really sorry about your father, Rye," I say. "He was a really good man."

Rye looks at my sadly, nodding his head. "It's just hard with the kids, you know," he replies. "My mother isn't a very good mother. Well, person, really. And they just don't have grandparents who will be grandparents anymore. My wives parent's died when she was younger, my dad's not with us, my mom's just nonexistent."

I reach out a hand to circle his wrist when I see the emotion come into play.

"My mother never loved us and we were her blood," he whispers then. "I can't expect her to love these kids, to treat them the way they deserved. She gives them whatever they wants, hands them gifts by the bundle, but she doesn't watch them or tell them she loves them. She doesn't pick them up from school or take them to the park or come visit them on Sunday morning's.

"My dad used to do all that stuff but I mean, you know my dad. Well, knew my dad. He was a good guy, cared about everyone and adored the hell out of the two of them. His first grandchildren, you know how that can be." Rye smiles. "And they miss him now but they won't in two years."

I frown. "What do you mean? They'll always miss him, Rye. He'll always be-"

"Katniss, their five," he interrupts. "That's the thing, they won't remember. They'll remember things and moments but they won't remember him. He'll be a distant memory soon enough and that makes me sick to my stomach."

"Well, you'll have to make them remember. You know, all the good, maybe even the bad."

"For what? So I can remind them that the person they look up to so much isn't around anymore? So I can make them relive over and over again how unfair life can be?" He's starting to get angry and I sense it so I pull away, retracting my hand slowly and placing it into my lap. Rye looks embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Katniss. It's just a hard subject."

I shake my head. "No need, Rye, I understand. Well, I don't but I can imagine," I say. "My parents are it for her and I don't even want to imagine what life without them will be like. For me and her."

"Her father's not around?" He asks.

"No," I sigh. Nothing else needs to be said because I'm sure Rye is more than capable of putting the pieces together of what went wrong in that relationship. It was the same thing that always went wrong.

"His loss anyway," Rye mutters, getting to his feet then, calling for the twins. "We have to get going. We were only supposed to make a pitstop while Lavinia took a nap."

"I should probably go too," I say. "We're stopping by my uncle's house before dinner at my parent's."

"Haymitch still slumming it?" Rye jokes, a smile on his face.

I laugh. "Yeah, still kicking it in the same apartment he's been living in for the past twenty years, drunk as ever. I'm starting to worry about the man, he's getting up there in age."

He shakes his head. "He'll be alright," he tells me.

He gathers up Emily and Cash while I bundle up Emma, all saying goodbye to each other and begging for just a few more minutes.

"I promise, we'll play together next time," I tell Emma only to stop her crying. Not taking a nap today was obviously a mistake on my part. I tug on her hand and start moving her to the car.

"Katniss!" Rye calls after me. I turn on my heel but don't stop moving. "You should come around, the bakery and stuff. I think it's good for him."

I don't know how to respond so I say nothing, just give a small smile and wave goodbye.

...

Haymitch lives in the bad part of Panem that they call the Seam, not too far from my parents house but a nice little drive from my own. He's lived here since I can remember and has more than enough saved in his bank account to afford something a little nicer.

I'm convinced he likes the filth.

I don't bother knocking as I enter, Haymitch asleep on the kitchen table, bottle in his hand, knife in the other. I'll never know why he does this but my father assures me it had nothing to do with their childhood. Something about war but I can't really remember the story. Whatever it is, it's weird. But he's always been a strange one and I've just learned to accept it.

Emma knows the drill and runs off to play in a corner the moment we walk in, taking toys from her backpack and playing on the floor while I work with tidying up the apartment before waking the man.

He snores as I wash his dishes, start his laundry, and change his bedding which smell of old cigarettes and desperation. Just a few of my favorite things. I find a bottle of Lysol under the kitchen sink and dispense about half of it onto his belongings. It's this that finally rouses his from his sleep, his eyes blinking heavily, his nose scrunched up in disgust.

"What the hell is that smell?" He grunts, waving his knife around in the air.

"Cleaning product," I hiss. "You should probably learn to use it."

Haymitch grunts at me like a dog would, moving around the room to empty his watered down glass into the sink, pouring himself a new one. I try not to let my eyes give away that I'm judging him but by the smirk that plays across his face, it's obvious I'm not doing a very good job.

"Where's my favorite four year old?" He says loudly, breaking Emma from her trance. A smile passes across her face as she gets to her feet, running arms wide open to Haymitch as he spins her around. I smile. He'd have been a good father if he let himself. I don't feel the comment would sit easy with him if I said so out loud so I stay quiet and watch from the corner of my eye.

"Hi, Uncle Haymitch," Emma coos, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him close. "I brought you something I made at school. It's in my backpack!"

She pulls out the colored picture she drew for him, one of her in a light green dress and of him, a geese in his hand and a bottle in the other. Ms. Trinket was confused about the second half but I assured her, Haymitch was harmless.

He smiles as he hangs the thing on his fridge, whispering something to her that I can't here. From the way her eyes travel to me I can only assume he's speaking nonsense but I chose not to say anything. I just stand back.

Emma runs off a moment later to resume her games and leaves me alone with Haymitch who isn't looking to happy to see me.

"Thank you for cleaning up the place," he remarks sarcastically.

"You shouldn't like to live in filth, Haymitch. You're going to catch a disease."

"The possibility of that doesn't sound nearly as daunting to me as you think it does," he says. I roll my eyes. "Oh, lighten up, kid. I'm just pulling your buttons. Somethings got you in quite the mood today."

I let out a deep sigh. "I just ran into Rye Mellark at the park with Emma. Got to talking about his father and my father and Emma's father and you know what a sour mood thinking about Darius puts me in."

Haymitch nods. "Don't let the boy get your mood so out of wack, girl. You can't let him keep whatever power he has over you."

"He has no power over me," I hiss angrily. "It's not me I feel sorry for, it's Emma. I could care less about what kind of life he has and wether he wants me in it or not but how could you not want to see your own kid?"

The thought kept me awake most nights when Emma would sneak under the covers and fall asleep, an arm wrapped around my middle. I look at her and see so much of him. So much of Darius that I wish would disappear.

My sweet little girl who danced in the rain and cried about stray dogs on the television. Who refused to wear the same outfit twice and never left the house without a bow in her hair. Who sang at the top of her lungs whenever she could and laughed long with everything she saw just because.

How could you not want to know someone so wonderful?

"He's a piece of shit," I mutter. "I just don't want her to know that."

"No point in raising her to hate the male population, that's for sure," Haymitch agrees. It may be the only parenting advice the two of us agree on. "I've never had kids sweetheart, but I assure you, you're doing just fine all on your own."

"If he ever wants to see her - if he even asks to ever see her - believe me when I tell you I will kick his ass, Haymitch," I fume, the thought of such things bringing angry tears to my eyes.

There have been moments when I've gotten a text from Darius asking to see her. That was when we were in New York, when we were only a block away. But every time I'd agreed, he wouldn't show. He wouldn't come to the house or meet us at the park or at the restaurant. He was a no show and always would be.

Eventually, I stopped allowing it. I stopped allowing him to think he deserved to know her and just started saying no.

The last text I'd gotten regarding seeing his daughter had been months ago. He'd long forgotten about her, about us. He hadn't even replied to my call when I'd told him I was moving back home.

That is how little we mean to him and why it still hurts so bad, I don't know.

By the tears that stream down my cheeks, I can only guess I've been crying. I push away at the tears stubbornly, not wanting Emma to see.

"She deserves so much better than a shit father who she's never going to see," I say. "What do I say when she starts asking questions, huh? When father's day comes along and she has no father. When we do conferences and it's always just me."

"Who said it's always going to be just you, kid?"

I look at Haymitch in disbelief. "Who would want me now, Haymitch? I'm cynical, and stubborn, and rude. I have a kid and no real, stable job, no home. I'm damaged goods."

For a moment, Haymitch almost looks like he feels sorry for me. "Don't beat yourself down. You may be all of those things but you're also a million more." I smile. This is what I see in Haymitch that no one else seems to. "Don't get that look on your face."

"I just don't want her living her life thinking I did what I did for selfish reasons. I don't want her to think I kept her away from her father because we couldn't get along."

"You'll find someone, someday, Katniss. Someone who will be a man enough to raise her like his own and she won't think those things," he says.

"Who would want that?"

"That Mellark boy still seems to have a fancy for you."

I wasn't so sure that was true but it made my stomach flop, my hands sweaty. I doubt Peeta had feelings for me past those of friendship, maybe nostalgia. I'd broken him too badly, hurt him too much. He'd be a fool to come back and I'd be a fool to let him.

"Peeta deserves better than what I can give him."

"Well we've all known that for awhile now, no?" Haymitch replies. "But has that ever stopped him before?"

* * *

The whole concept of Darius being an absent father is one that hits home with me. My mother and father were never together after I was born - my father wasn't a nice man - and versus trying to work through the relationship, my mother chose to leave and raise me on her own with the help of other families members. When I was younger, I had some resentment that I didn't have a life like the other kids. I didn't have a mommy and a daddy and I didn't live with a white picket fence and a dog.

But my mother was a hard worker and supported the two of us the best she could. I never went without, we had a home which she purchased for herself, and a car that always had gas, bills that were always paid. We traveled together and I played the sports I wanted to play and we went to lunch and we had a pretty great life for it just being the two of us.

For a long time, I blamed my father for the way he treated my mother and me and then I realized, I just didn't care. In my mind, he wasn't my father. My grandfather who raised me was my father. My uncles who were there for me were my fathers. There are other places to look for love and I feel that's so important.

Anyway, off topic. Thank you guys for reading!

Please review.

-B


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I don't know exactly what enabled me into staying in the bakery till well past midnight but before I know, the clock in the middle of the square is chiming loudly in my ear as I wipe down the counters of the flour I hadn't gotten to today.

Johanna had long gone, probably almost four hours ago after the dinner rush. She had a date but with whom, she wouldn't tell me. My guess is Thom, a boy we'd grown up with who lived in the Seam. He'd always taken a liking to Johanna and, as much as she wanted to deny her attraction, she had taken an equal liking to him.

I sigh as I hang my apron up on the mantel. I can remember countless times when my father used to come home just as late, looking completely tired and worn down from the day. My mother would start yelling as soon as he would walk into the door, ordering us up into our rooms as if that helped. You could hear her from a mile down the road.

I used to think my father was having an affair during high school when he'd come home past midnight. It wouldn't be too surprisingly, really. I can't even say I would've blamed him if my suspicions were true. He deserved a lot more than my mother and part of me wishes he would just go out and try to find it.

My brothers told me I was delusional for suggesting such things and often times shunned me after that. At least Wheaton did. He'd always taken a liking to mother for reasons I don't understand. Maybe because he's the oldest and he was the first child and he just had time to bond with her more than Rye and I had. I don't know. It doesn't matter to me.

I shrug on my coat as I walk out onto the streets on Panem. Their mostly empty. The bakery is in a suburban neighborhood and their isn't too much going on at this time of night. If I walked three miles north I'm sure I would run into the 'party crowd' of Panem, probably just getting to the bars. I was sure that's where my friends were tonight. Thinking back, Finnick may have texted me asking to go out. I shrug.

If I were anywhere else, I'm sure I would have called someone to come get me to save me the expense of having to walk home alone this late at night. I wasn't scared of much but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to defend myself if or when the time came. If I still had my leg, there would be no problem, but the thing was still unstable and I hadn't mastered it quite yet.

But then reality hits me and I must remind myself I live in Panem, one of the safest places in the world. I can't remember the last time their has been any sort of criminal activity, nevertheless a mugging or something worse. Our car accident had been the worst tragedy the town had seen in awhile.

Still, I check over my shoulders as I walk down the vacant street, keys in one hand, ready to attack. I should laugh at myself, really. I look like more of a danger than anything.

I'm halfway to my apartment when I hear a car slow down beside me. I don't bother turning my head to look, knowing it's probably some rowdy teenagers just wanting to get a peek at the town 'crazy'. No one had directly called me that but I was starting to feel that way. They might as well call me Haymitch Abernathy.

I expect the car to pass so when it doesn't within the next six seconds, I get worried, anxiety clawing at the pit of my stomach as I fight to keep my head down on the sidewalk. I can see the head lights still shining forward, I can hear the engine, the soft music playing from the radio; I just can't see who it is.

I grab ahold of my phone from my back pocket, dialing Rye but there is no answer. Right. It's midnight. Who would be awake at this time?

I think about calling Finnick but all he will do is yell at me, tell me this is the exact reason why I need to drive again. He'll come get me without a doubt, just give me all kinds of hell for it and I'm not in the mood to hear it. Delly will freak out, cry for no reason, not think logically and probably call the police when it's probably nothing. Johanna is probably off having sex as we speak and I don't want to interrupt anything.

I suppose I'll have to fiend for myself but I've never had a hard time doing that before.

Finally I turn around slowly, grip tightening in the pocket of my jacket as the driver of the car slips their body through the door, leaving the engine running. They pick up a light jog as they move forward trying to get to me. I hadn't noticed but their a good half mile down the road. They must have their brights on.

"Peeta," the voice calls to me, sweet and tender and raspy in all the right ways. The agitation I'd felt moments before melts away just like that and I can feel the beginning of something else floating in my stomach.

"Katniss," I yell back, removing my hood and meeting her half way. It takes me a little longer to make it, my leg not carrying me far and I hadn't noticed till now how badly the thing hurt. It's a good thing it wasn't somebody I needed to defend myself against or else I would have been down before it even started. "You scared me."

Katniss frowns, running a hand over her long braid. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just couldn't tell if it was you or not," she replies. "But who else would be walking by themselves at this time of night?"

"No logical person," I joke. She smiles, moving to take the bag I bring to the bakery out of my hands. She swings it over her shoulder and turns to move back to her car.

When I don't move, she turns back towards me with a sullen expression on her face. "Aren't you coming?" She asks, confusion evident in her voice.

I shake my head from side to side, closing my eyes to clear my head of the fog. "Sorry, I'm just kind of out of it," I answer, slowly falling into step with her. Katniss tries to slow down so I'm able to keep up with her comfortably but I can tell she's getting restless with the pace we're moving. "Go ahead and get the car. You'll make it faster than I can up this hill."

I expect her to take of running because the last thing Katniss Everdeen has ever been is patient, especially with me. But versus doing that, she shakes her head and grabs ahold of my forearm the way she used too. Mostly when she needed comforting or was nervous. The touch affects me more than it should and I stiffen greatly. If she feels it, she says nothing.

"I'm okay," she answers. "It's a pretty night anyway. Why not take a little walk?"

"You're wasting gas," I say.

"Well then, I guess you'll just have to pay me back, hm?"

I say no more to try to make her move ahead because I know it's useless. Katniss has always been stubborn and there is no point in trying to talk her out of doing something she's already decided she wants to do.

I can remember so clearly in our sophomore year of high school when Finnick had dared her she couldn't eat a dozen cheeseburgers in one sitting. Of course, the thought of being challenged hadn't sat well with her and we spent the rest of our night at McDonald's testing the theory. We'd all tried to talk her out of the act. Katniss was a small girl and there really was no way she could eat that much and not be sick.

But she hadn't listened to a word we said and spent a good hour and a half downing cheeseburger after cheeseburger until she was blue in the face. We all watched her with amazement as one went down, then the next, then the next until she had eaten fourteen.

Inevitably, she threw up in the backseat of my car all but ten minutes later and we had to spend the rest of the night making sure she didn't choke. But Finnick gave her twenty bucks and she got bragging rights for the rest of her life. To her, all the sickness after was worth it.

I still cringe at the memory but, despite that being a pretty bad night in terms of her health, it was a good night. Something I looked back in my nights in college when I was lonely and missing her, or something I still saw in my dreams. It was one of those things you don't forget.

She was one of those things you don't forget.

When we've finally made it back to her car, a trip that should've taken no more than five minutes has turned into twenty and I'm surprised no one has attempted in stealing her parked car in the middle of the street. "It's a good thing it's not rush hour," she comments, throwing my bag into the backseat.

Katniss leaves the door open for me. I hesitate, only for a moment, before closing the door and opting to sit in the front seat. Next to her. She looks at me for only a fraction of a second before smiling, patting my knee with her hand and putting the car in drive.

Once the car begins to roll, I know I've probably made a mistake with my choice of seating. No, I've definitely made a mistake. My hands shake, my chest tightens, my eyes blur, and suddenly I'm back in that night all over again.

I can almost hear it, taste it. The sound of the crunching metal, of my own screams mixed with my fathers then the sound of deafening silence that still radiates through my head. And the metallic taste of blood in mouth coming from all different directions. The panic, the cries, the chaos-

"Peeta," Katniss whispers, breaking me from my trance. It takes me a moment to realize I'm not in that night. It was a flashback, that's all it was. I hadn't gotten one in quite some time. But with every first, I should expect something of the sort. At least, that's what Dr. Aurelius tells me.

"Peeta," she calls again. The car has stopped moving and we've veered off to the side of the road. She's cut the engine, the radio is off. Once again, nothing but silence and it scares me so much. "Peeta, are you alright? You can sit in the back if you want."

I would want nothing more than that but what grown man sits in the back seat of the car because their scared? If I don't do it now, when will I? I shake my head. "I'm fine, really."

"You don't look fine," she says. "Peeta I can just walk you home if you want me too and come get my car later. We don't have too-"

"Please, just drive," I snap. The words are sharper than I expect them to be but if Katniss is hurt by them she doesn't show it. She simply sinks back into the seat and starts the engine like I'd requested.

She drives in silence and when I try to give her directions to my apartment, she shrugs them off. When she passes my apartment, I finally speak up again. "Katniss, that was my apartment."

"You aren't going home right now, Peeta," she replies, her eyes staring straight forward as she winds down the road. "I know you must be starving so we're going to get some dinner, okay?"

Maybe what had attracted me to Katniss all these years were her confidence in the way she spoke. Maybe it was the fact that she knew what kind of power she possessed over me, I don't know, but I've always loved it and hearing her speak to me now, the feeling bubbles in my stomach all over again. Countless times in high school my friends would make fun of me for letting Katniss wear the pants in the relationship but I'd never minded. They fit her just fine.

We go to a small grill on the other side of town, opposite ways from all the bars and where my friends are spending their free time. I know she brought me here to avoid all the stares therefore avoiding all the anxiety. I was already high strung, she probably knew not to push it.

"This place is really good," Katniss tells me as I climb out of the front seat. The parking lot is bare expect for a few cars here and there but those are probably from the workers. I take her word for it though. She's always known good food.

Katniss must come here often because the moment we walk through the door, she is greeted by warm hugs from the staff. Like I guessed, we are the only ones here and the kitchen seems to be closing but they are more than willing to seat us. She requests a small table in the back and they give it to her.

"My father used to bring us here all the time when we were little," Katniss mumbles, not bothering to even look at her menu. "They've known us since we were babies. Really nice people."

I look to the friendly faces smiling at us from the front and try my best to match their enthusiasm but I know I must be failing. "I've never even see this place until today and I've lived here all my life," I say.

"It's a little ways from Mellark's. I'm sure you've never traveled to these parts of the woods before," she jokes, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips as she plays with the straw in her water. She chews on the end and I cringe. Old habits die hard I suppose.

"Parts of the woods?" I laugh. "Yeah, I guess not. Call me a city boy or whatever but I don't like to travel outside of my suburb, that's for sure."

"Speaking off," she starts. "I went to the Seam earlier today to visit Haymitch. That place is really coming up. Ripper finally got out of the drug business, huh?"

I nod my head. "She got caught a few months back by some out of town policeman who arrested her. I don't know, guess it scared her into finding some real work and putting the pot business to rest. Probably the best decision she's ever made."

"But where am I supposed to get my weed from now?" Katniss jokes. I smile too.

There are very few times in my life that I've used drugs, most happening between my senior year of high school and my sophomore year of college when I was pledging in my fraternity. But I can't be a hypocrite and say I've never used them before. They were nice. Not my thing but did their job when I needed them too. "I guess you'll have to fly some in from New York," I say. "I bet they got some good shit."

"I wouldn't know," Katniss says sadly. "Gave the stuff up my first year there, wasn't really into it anymore. Then I had Emma and, you know, now I can't even have a sip of wine without her eyes accusing me."

"Katniss Everdeen is a wine drinker now, who would've guessed?" I joke, smirking as she sticks her tongue out in my direction. "I think you should start working on getting membership to the club. I'm sure you'd fit in great!"

Katniss dramatically rolls her eyes, running a hand through her hair which, I don't know when, but must have come loose because now it's running down her back in waves. I long to reach out a touch the locks but we're friends. Friends don't do those type of things.

"I think I'd stick cotton balls down my throat, thanks though," she laughs. "Do you know that they asked me to bake cookies for the bake sell next week? I mean, is that what my life is now? Cookies and bake sales and ballet recitals!"

"Hey," I warn. "Bake sales and cookies are not all that bad."

"Right," she whispers sarcastically. "I was thinking, maybe you could do me a favor and make the cookies? I mean, no one really wants their kids food poisoned."

I laugh, knowing very well it's a joke but also knowing it may be quite a strong possibility. "Well, if it's for the benefit of children, how can I resist?" She smiles and it's the most breathtaking smile I've ever seen. "Just one condition. You have to help me make the cookies."

"I don't see how I'll be much help," she says. "Emma and I tried to make those cookies you just put in the oven, burned the whole batch. Turns out you have to watch them."

"That'd be a good place to start, yeah," I mumble. "I would've thought spending all that time in the bakery growing up you would've picked up on a thing or two. You seemed to be paying attention most of the time."

Katniss cheeks burn with red, her eyes darting down to her closed menu and then back up to mine. They hold a shyness that wasn't there moments before. "I wasn't really paying attention to anything other than you."

There's an awkward silence and Katniss goes back to chewing on her nails, I go back to the menu. I don't know what to say next so I'm happy when the waiter comes to take our order, Katniss ordering a burger and I follow her lead just because I trust her judgement.

When he leaves we're left to ourselves again and the air feels sticky and muggy and I want to run outside, just for a moment, to clear my head. But that would just make the situation worse, no? By the color stain on her cheeks I can tell she already regrets her words.

And I wish she didn't regret them. I wish the two of us could admit that the period in which we were together really happened. That we honestly made each other that happy. We'd been back in touch for a little over a month but neither of us had acknowledged the fact that at one point, we were something much more than what we are now. Denial, I guess. But being with Katniss wasn't something I ever wanted to deny.

We were still just hopelessly trying to cover up what happened. I was still trying to block out all the pain I'd felt from those months, erase the memories of her like I had tried to do in college. She was still trying to run though, now, she had nowhere to run to. We were still trying to disappear without much hope. Trying to blend into each others lives like oil and water and we'll never mix.

"I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, Peeta," she whispers then, once again inside my head, saying the words I'm thinking before I know how to voice them. "I can stop saying things like that, I don't know why I do. I'm sure Delly wouldn't enjoy them."

I'm sure Delly wouldn't enjoy a lot of things about Katniss being back. She wouldn't enjoy the phone calls and the midnight dinners and the rides home from the bakery here and there. "Why are you out so late?" I ask then, changing the subject.

Katniss takes a deep breath. "I take the night shifts on Saturdays at the restaurant so I don't have to send Emma anywhere," she explains. "I was actually supposed to get off at one but my manager let me go early, knew I had a long drive back." The thought of Katniss driving down the winding roads this late at night doesn't sit well with me. "Tomorrow I have off."

Our foods arrives and for a moment, our conversation ends as both of us dig into what we ordered. I hadn't known I was so hungry until this moment. The medicines take a lot out of me mentally and sometimes, my mind is so fogged I forget to eat. Today must have been one of those days by the way my stomach reacts to the first bite of the greasy burger. I groan.

"Oh god, this is good," I say, devouring the first half within seconds. I realize then, Katniss hasn't even touched hers. But she smiles, nodding her head. Her fingers tear at the food the way they always have, taking bit by bit apart.

"Why are you out so late?" Katniss asks in between bits, her eyes trained on her phone, obviously reading something on the screen. Probably from Gale or work or maybe a boyfriend. Who knows? The possibilities are endless.

"I don't know," I say honestly. "I just kind of lost track of time at the bakery and before I knew it, it was midnight." I tell her about the recipes I had been trying, the pies and tarts and cakes that had come to me last night when I was doing the menu. They'd all been good but nothing great. My father would have no trouble adding to the menu, he always was. I just didn't have the gift he did.

"The goat cheese one sounds really good but maybe you should do one with like brown sugar and cream cheese," Katniss offers. "There was this bakery in New York and they sold these like bagel things just like that and they were to die for!" I smile, entertained by how enthusiastic Katniss gets when it comes to food. "But I tried there cheese buns one day and, let me tell you, those things tasted like sand paper."

"The bakery must have been horrible then," I mumble. "It's hard to mess up a cheese bun."

"Maybe I just got spoiled with yours all these years," Katniss smiles, finishing off the last bit of her plate, asking for the check. I move to pull my wallet from my pocket but Katniss shakes her head. "No, I got it. I invited you." I would argue more but I know there's little chance I'll win the fight.

She pays the check and I talk her into letting me leave the tip. I leave ten dollars which is a little outrageous and just two dollars less than our actual bill, but the people here are nice and take care of Katniss and, for some reason, I feel I should repay them for it.

Katniss's phone rings then and she bolts from the table immediately, grabbing her things in a hurry and moving outside to speak. I get that whatever is being said she needs to talk about privately so I take my time gathering my things into my pocket and rearranging.

When I reappear outside Katniss is talking in a hushed voice to whoever is on the other line but, whatever is being said, is obviously making her angry by the way the lines of her forehead stick out. I'd seen this look too many times before and I know it's better to just allow her to sit back and take the time she needs. So I stand by the door until she's finished.

"I'm sorry," she snaps when she hangs up. "My bratty sister decides she can't watch Emma this week after school so, I don't know what I'm going to do. My parents are out of town, Gale and Madge work, I would never allow Haymitch to watch her by herself."

She goes on for a few more minutes, obviously just running through people in her mind as we shuffle into the car. I see her hands are visibly shaking and wonder if Prim not being able to watch Emma is all that's bothering her.

"Is everything alright?" I finally ask, my eyes darting to the way her eyes twitch as she adjusts her mirrors.

"Put on your seat belt," Katniss hisses as she puts the car in reverse. I do as I'm told, feeling like a small child under her gaze. I don't say anything more, just listen to her ragged breathing and watch the way she circles the steering wheel. "I just wish she could a little more understanding sometimes."

I don't know if she's talking to me or herself so I stay silent but I look to her, my eyes begging her to continue. I'm puzzled as to what her words mean. Who needs to be more understanding?

"It's like she resents me for leaving back then but she didn't understand anything, you know? She was thirteen, Peeta, she didn't understand why I needed to get out of this place," Katniss continues. Ah, so we're talking about Prim. Really, this surprises me. I would expect her to say such things about her mother, maybe her father if they'd gotten into an argument but speaking foully about Prim was something I'd never heard her do before. Prim was Katniss's whole life growing up, I don't know when that changed.

But I didn't know too much about the Everdeen's anymore, in their defense.

"She was too young to understand anything and now, five years later, she wants to act like she understands everything," Katniss mumbles thoughtfully. "I don't know what else to do for her, Peeta. She resents me for leaving, then resents me for coming back. It's like I can't win."

"Maybe she just doesn't like the focus being shifted away from her," I suggest. I know this may be crossing a line, but someone needed to say it. It was the only obvious answer. "Prim isn't a selfish girl but I'm sure she just got used to having your parents attention all the time, you know? When Wheaton used to come home from college, it used to annoy me so much how my mother would act only when he's around." I pause. "But you know how my mother is, it might not be the same."

"Were you jealous?" Katniss questions. "Is that it?"

I shake my head. "I wouldn't really call it jealousy, I would just say I was annoyed. For the time he was here, I was invisible. I was just thrown in with the rest and it's like my parents couldn't see past anything but him. I got over it as I grew up but at first, it was pretty nerve wracking."

"I didn't mean to take anything away from anybody," she mumbles. "Peeta, you'd understand that, right? I didn't come back here to steal her shine, I just..."

"You needed help," I finish for her because I know those three words would be the hardest she'd ever have to say. She nods. "It's okay. Everyone needs help."

I haven't noticed that we've made it back to my apartment by now or that Katniss even knows where my apartment is but regardless, we sit outside the building, engine killed. I realize I've made it home safe, alive with all my body parts. That's a small victory, no?

"Sorry for unloading on you," Katniss says. "It's just been bothering me and you've always been a really good listener." She leans her head back against the head rest, her hands coming to sit in her lap as she waits for me to respond.

"You know I'm here for you," I whisper then, following her actions and turning my head to find her eyes. She looks at me sadly but with longing and I want to reach out a touch her face. Trace her features with my fingertips and watch them flutter under my ministrations the way they used too.

"You're too good of a person," she replies. "I'm really happy nothing changed you."

Katniss says the words and I feel my heart contract as they flow through me into the part of my brain where they'll be stored forever. Because everything has changed but nothing has changed me. "I feel different."

Katniss shakes her head. "No. You're still the Peeta I know." And it's her who reaches over and brushes the hair from over my eyes, her fingers lingering my eyelashes before falling to trace patterns on my cheeks. The smallest touches send me spiraling to another world and only she will ever be able to have this effect on me.

"Would you be mad if I kissed you?"

I'm not sure I hear the words correctly or hear them in the right context, but whatever it is, I agree to it because the words 'kiss' have never meant anything bad. Especially not with her.

So I move forward slowly to meet her halfway because it's all I've ever known. And then her lips fall onto mine in the softest kiss you could ever imagine, her lips tasting like strawberry Chapstick and bliss. Just how I remember them.

For a long time we stay there, neither of us moving, just relishing in the feeling of being close to one another again. When she opens her mouth to allow me access, we fall into the familiar rhythm I feel like I've known all my life and I know nothing will ever be the same to me.

The kiss doesn't last long but it's enough. And when the two of us pull away, I can't keep the smile off of my face. When my eyes finally open her expression reflects mine and I know kissing her is something I never want to stop doing.

* * *

for the lack of Peeta and Katniss in the previous chapter, here is 5000 words dedicated to nothing but Peenis!

Hope you enjoyed it. Obviously, things will stop being so stop and go from here. Let me know what you thought. Please leave a review!

-B


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I've had my fair share of restless nights. When Emma was first born, when I'd found out about my pregnancy, the night Peeta and I had broken up all those years ago... All days where I couldn't find peace when the rest of the world was fast asleep, reliving things they wanted to forget behind their eyelids or living in a fantasy they never wanted to leave. If only I was so lucky.

Tonight was one of those nights. Saturday had turned into Sunday before I'd known it and Sunday to Monday. The sun was peeking in through my window, birds chirping as the warm air made it's way over Panem, the sound of laughs and giggles and greetings as our neighbors got up with glee.

My clock tells me it's almost six o'clock, much too early for any human interaction. I rub a hand lazily over my face, now, finally, after hours and hours of lying awake - and even a small amount of NyQuil - I'm beginning to feel the tendrils of sleep pull at my strings, beckoning me to the dark side I so gladly wish I could cross.

Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes of sleep would do me good if I could just close my eyes for a moment, erase the loud pounding in my head and the voices and the heat running through my body. It was all starting to quiet now. Maybe thirty minutes of sleep would be possible.

But nothing is possible with a hyper four year old and before I know any better, Emma is clawing at my door and making her way underneath the covers of my bed until she finds purchase behind me, wrapping her arms around my middle and nestling herself into the crook of my arm. She smacks her lips as she closes her eyes. "Mommy, do I have to go to school today?"

I crack an eye open. "Yeah, baby," I yawn, my voice sounding just as bad as I had expected. "We have to go to school everyday. That's the only way we'll learn anything."

Emma doesn't seem to satisfied with this answer, tugging a lip between her teeth and crossing her arms. "Well, you tell that to Missy Day who has missed about five days of school, all because her mommy and daddy don't wanna live in the same house anymore."

My eyes widen at the gossip. I'd known the Day's growing up. They were a few years older than I was, twin boys. I'd heard Denton - the more handsome of the two if you ask me - married a girl from the next town over and bought her parent's shop. I didn't know they'd had children nor did I know they were no longer together. I saw them just the other day in the grocery store. "Emma, that can be really sad for some families."

"I told her I didn't live with my daddy either and that, if she wanted, we could start our own club," she tells me. I roll my eyes, stifling a laugh with the sleeve of my shirt. I do a bad job of it and before I know it, she, too, is laughing, her giggle the most magical thing on earth. I'm amazed that I had something to do with something so perfect. "Can I at least wear my rain boots today?"

I let her, mostly because she had been begging me for what feels like a lifetime. She throws the rubber things atop her feet and smiles at me once their on, sticking her leg out dramatically and demanding I take a picture to send to Aunt Madge. I do as she says, mostly because she looks too cute to keep to myself.

"Alright squirt, we have to get on the road or else we'll be late," I say, grabbing ahold of my own jacket. I yawn deeply, running my hands over my eyes in an attempt to wake up. It's useless and I feel like a zombie. How I'll make it through a full day's work, I don't know.

"You look tired," Emma points out, her small fingers tracing the purple under my eyes. "Did you not sleep good? Did you have nightmares?"

I shake my head. "No. Mommy just has a lot on her mind lately," I whisper, registering the ring from my phone in my purse. Probably Madge prepared to obsess over my daughter or my mother reminding us they won't be able to pick Emma up.

I groan inwardly. It turns out Emma will be having to spend the next two afternoons with Haymitch being he is the only one without anything to do in the time slot. Madge will watch her Wednesday and Gale will watch her Thursday and Friday. I am lost as to what I'd do if it wasn't for my friends. After school care is much too expensive, even with the help of my parents.

I'm not the biggest fan of Haymitch picking her up after school. I get the nagging feeling in the bottom of my stomach the man would do something like forget her and pick her up an hour late. He used to do the same to Prim and I when we were younger.

But he loves Emma more than Prim and I combined no matter how much he wants to deny it. He assured me he wouldn't forget her and also that he wouldn't lose her. I was just hoping he stayed true to his word.

"Uncle Haymitch is going to come get you after school and you'll spend the afternoon at his house, okay?" I tell Emma as we begin our walk, holding on tightly to her hand so she'll listen to me, just for a moment. "Maybe he'll take you to the park if you're good."

"Do you think he'll let me play with his geese?" I flinch at the thought. I sure as hell hope not. "Oh mommy! Let's take the long way today so I can see the flowers they planted by the park. Please, please, please!"

Going the long way meant the walk would take, at least, an extra fifteen minutes and if Emma stopped to admire the gardening, there was no way we'd make it to school on time. Going the long way also meant walking by the bakery and that was something I had been avoiding.

"Please," Emma begs, her eyes round as she stares off into the direction. "Mommy, we have time!" She can't even tell time so where this is coming in to play, I don't know. I say nothing, pulling her along before letting her wander a few paces ahead like she normally does.

Deep in the purse I carry, I hear the familiar sound of my ringtone. This early in the morning, it could only be my mother, probably letting me know my parents got to the lake safely or wanting to know how Emma's morning went. I dig through my belongings until I find the device, taking my eyes off of Emma for one moment.

But one moment is all you need, no?

When I lift my head, she is nowhere to be seen. I don't catch sight of her backup, or her hair, or the rain boots she'd convinced me to let her wear. She's gone, no longer in my line of sight. From the years she spent in New York, she knows better than to run off. She never had before.

Panic courses through me, my hands shaking, palms sweaty, vision clouded as I search around frantically, willing myself to scream out loud like crazy person. There are very few people on the street, a few who go to Emma's school but other than that, I recognize no one. One mother is keeping a close eye on my movements, hugging her daughter close as if I might go off at any moment. She shouldn't be surprised if I do.

"Emma!" I call out loudly, my silent wishing obviously not working. Wherever she'd run off to was obviously not in my line of vision. "Emma!"

Now everyone on the street keeps a close eye on me as I move to and fro. People have stopped now, there eyes looking over the streets then to their children then back to me. A few people ask to help me but I don't hear their words. I hear nothing but the pounding in my ears from my heart.

"Emma!" I scream at the top of my lungs without a moments notice. "Emma Grace!"

My feet begin to move on their own accord and before I know it, I've broken out into a full blown sprint down the road ways and through the alleys. She is nowhere to be found when suddenly, it dawns on me.

The garden, the meadow. Where else would she be?

With a deep sigh I change direction, running swiftly down the open road and through the crowds of busy people, still screaming her name. It's then when I see bits and pieces of her long red hair blowing in the wind, dusty as she moves through the freshly planted flowers, laughing.

"Emma!" I scream, not so much out of fear but out of anger. She knows better than to run away from my when we're walking, I know she does. "Emma."

She finally looks up at me, her eyes wide as the smile on her face disappears and is replaced by a look of fear I'd never seen her wear before. She must see it in my eyes or something close because as soon as I'm five feet from her, she cowers into the safety of the plants.

"Emma Grace, what the hell were you thinking!" I snap, grabbing ahold of her arm and bringing her out onto the street. It's emptied out for the most part and I realize now school has started. In the frenzy, she has made herself late. "Have you lost your mind?"

"I just wanted to see the flowers, mommy," she whispers so low I almost miss it. The smile begins to return to her face but it does little to muddle the sickness I'm feeling in my stomach. My face burns.

"You never run away from me again, do you hear me?" I say, pulling on her arm roughly as we make our way down the street. She squirms and avoids my touch. "Do you even know how scared I was?"

"I just wanted to see the flowers!" Emma repeats, finally freeing her arm from my grip. She holds it close to her body. "You're hurting me, mommy!"

"Well you don't just run off from me! It looks like I'll have to put you on a leash now to make sure you don't get away!" I run a hand through my hair. "Goddamit, Emma. You don't even know how scared you made me!"

"Don't curse at me! That's not nice!"

"Don't tell me what to do!" I scream. Emma jumps at the sound of my voice then she releases the flood gates and sobs at the top of her lungs. We've stopped moving. Normally, making her this upset would trigger something within me but she'd thrown me through such a loop, her tears do nothing but anger me more. "Stop your crying, Emma. You did this to yourself!"

"I didn't mean too!" She sobs, wiping away at her tears though she shows no signs of calming down any time soon. "I just wanted to see the flowers!"

"And I told you no! It's not your decision to make. I am your-"

"Hey girls, what's the issue?"

I close my eyes instinctually, letting out the breath it appears I had been holding in and running a hand over my face. Emma looks at me with tired eyes, rimmed with red and puffy from all the crying. She tugs a lip between her teeth before her eyes go to Peeta. It's almost as if she's daring me to do something, say something. I shake my head.

"Emma decided to run off today on our walk to school and just about scared the shit out of me," I answer. Normally, I wouldn't curse in front of her but it seemed lately there had been plenty of firsts.

As I turn to look at Peeta, all the anger I'd felt just moments before goes like the wind and suddenly I'm felt with feeling nothing but relief. He wears what he normally would to the bakery, his leg covered my the jeans her wears, cheeks stained with flour, hair unruly. It look like he hasn't been able to get any sleep either, the way his blue eyes strain against the purple sacks under his eyes. But maybe that had nothing to do with me.

"Well you're okay now, right?" Peeta asks, holding out a white bag to Emma which she takes without question. She pulls out a carefully decorated cookie, on with lots of colors and swirls and sprinkles that looks much to pretty to eat. Before she can a bite, I snatch it from her grasp and let it fall into my purse. I don't bother looking to check her expression.

"Little girls who runaway from their mother's don't get cookies," I reply, deadpanned. Peeta smirks. This is the first time he's seen me in mother mode, I'm sure it's quite shocking. "You can have it for dinner if you have a good day at school."

Emma's face falls at the mention of school, almost as if she'd expected me to forget all about it during her little game. Maybe that was the motive behind it all. I wouldn't be very surprised if it was. I grab ahold of her hand, not as strongly as before but just enough and put her into motion. "We have to go to school. Thank Peeta for the cookie."

Emma mumbles her thanks and turns on her heel with a sad look as we begin to trek to school. We're a few paces away from where Peeta stood when I hear him call out, first to me then to Emma. We turn slowly until and wait until he's managed to catch up, his limp slightly less noticeable than it was the other day. "Mind if I walk with you guys? Seems like you could use an extra pair of eyes."

Before I can answer, Emma agrees, taking ahold of his hand as she stands between the two of us. I can't imagine how strange this must appear to anyone passing by. Peeta, Emma, and I, making our way to school like a family would. Emma laughing and giggling at the things Peeta says, a smile on my face at the comfort he brings when he's around. How simple it is for the man to defuse a situation when just moments ago, I was ready to strangle her.

Emma has plenty of questions for Peeta about the bakery and the cookies he makes. She loves the story about the time when he'd mistaken the salt for the sugar when making a cake for a birthday party. He tells it five times just because of how hard it makes Emma laughs and how humorous she finds it. I can't help but giggle too although I've heard the story multiple times.

"You must be a very good baker if you have your own shop," Emma comments when we finally walk up the steps of the school a good twenty minutes late. "My mommy would never be any good at having a bakery."

"Emma," I say, bringing my free hand up to cover my heart. "That's not very nice. You loved the muffins I made the other day."

"Uncle Gale told me to tell you they were good so you wouldn't get mad," Emma laughs. Peeta laughs loudly and tries to cover up the fact when I turn my glare on him. He's unsuccessful and his face only grows a deeper shade of red under my stare. After a while, I can't even hold my laughter back. "They tasted like sand."

Peeta stops just at the door as Emma and I continue through, mumbling something about waiting here for me until I was finished. Just as I'm about to object, Emma does it for me. "No, Peeta. You'll come with us. I want you to meet my friends!" There is no other argument because the way she smiles up at him melts your heart. Even in my anger, I would never be able to deny the look she gives him.

Without another word he moves with us down the hallway, holds Emma's backpack as she shrugs off her coat and help her arranger her things within her cubby. I stand back and watch, amazed at what a good team the two of them make. My stomach twists in a different way, a smile coming to my face because I can't help it. I try to ignore the sentimental feelings threatening to push up and out my throat.

Emma opens the door to Ms. Trinket's classroom, saying a quick hello to all of her friends as she sits at the desk assigned to her, all of her friends already busy coloring pictures of what appears to be a turkey. Thanksgiving is coming up, that must be it.

"How nice of you to join us," Ms. Trinket greets, waving Emma over before handing her the supplies. Peeta and I stand at the door, waiting to make sure she's able to get settled. "I heard you gave your mother quite the scare this morning." Emma just nods and sits.

"I guess we should go now," I mumble to Peeta when Emma makes no move to come say goodbye. Peeta nods and says hello to the twins, giving them both hugs before whispering something to Ms. Trinket that makes her blush. I roll my eyes. Peeta, always the charmer.

We leave the school ground with no words between us. Now I wish he hadn't come.

The kiss that happened between the two of us had been circulating throughout my mind for the past forty-eight hours on a continuous loop. Every aspect, every minor detail, on repeat until I was sure it'd drive me past the point of insanity.

What it meant, I didn't know. He hadn't called, I didn't call. There was no communication about such things. I had been the one to initiate it but I am the one without strings.

A part of me wants to be angry with him for not stopping it. For allowing me to do something so reckless and not shunning me away. It may have hurt in the moment but in the long run, it would have saved us both so much confusion because now, what was I supposed to do with the overwhelming thoughts of him that I had pushed away for so long?

I was under his spell once again and I was falling fast. I thought I'd grown out of this school girl, boy crazy, phase. My mother was right, I was blind to men in every way. I was powerless against them just like she was, I always would.

"Nice day, huh?" Peeta comments, his hands in his pockets, body relaxed. It's always amazed me how unbothered he can seem about things. He makes me feel like I'm the crazy one for feeling what I do.

"It's a little chilly for September," I reply. "But in New York, I'm sure it'd be snowing by now."

Peeta laughs humorlessly, nodding his head as we continue our walk in silence, my mind going into overdrive while he seems to be taking everything in stride. I have to slow my pace down remarkably to make sure I stay in step with him, not wanting to get too much ahead. But having a child, it was nothing new and I try to keep the annoyance off of my face.

"Sorry about this morning," I mumble, breaking the silence. "She just really worried me. Emma knows better than to do something like that and I just got into crazy mode. I promise I'm not one of those parents who hits their kids."

"Don't worry, Katniss. I know you're not." I don't have to look at him to see the blush that falls over his cheeks. I feel guilty for my statement now. To anyone else, it probably wouldn't have meant much. But to Peeta - to all the Mellark boys, I guess - it meant more than that.

I am not one hundred precent sure Mrs. Mellark actually ever hit one of the boys. When Peeta would come to class back in middle school and the first few months of high school with black eyes and bruises, he'd often times claim it was his brothers. It very well could have been only that the town knew how Mrs. Mellark could be.

Teachers asked and his close friends asked and a few of their parents but there was never much to tell according to Peeta. So eventually, it was just left alone, put on the back burner, and you learned to keep the worries to yourself.

Even in high school, after Peeta and I had gotten quite serious, I never got much out of Peeta about his mother. It was their family secret and no matter who you were, you weren't let on the inside. But by that time, he'd stopped showing up with bruises so I can only assume the abuse was verbal by that point.

Regardless, I've never been able to keep my patience with the women and when I see her, I try my best to keep my mouth shut and walk the other way. That seemed to be the only way to avoid confrontation with the women.

"If you two ever want to stop by the bakery for breakfast, you're more than welcome," Peeta says then, his eyes trained on the sidewalk. I hadn't noticed but we'd already made it full circle. "I work here every morning so just pop in. Cheese buns on the house!"

I remember first moving to Panem when I was eight, after my father lost his job in the city over and we had to move. The first place my father took us was the bakery, mostly because Prim favored the all the cupcakes in the display and loved watching Mr. Mellark decorate the wedding cakes. She was only four then but, still, made quite the impression on the family.

Mr. Mellark would come out every morning when Prim and I would walk to school, cheese buns or whatever had gone stale in hand, smiling to us as we made our way. On our birthday's, he would give us cupcakes and, once, when Mrs. Mellark wasn't around, he gave us a dozen just because.

I smile when I hear Peeta make the offer because he has turned into such a great man just like his father was. When I look up at him, his eyes are tired, his skin sags, he looks aged. But behind it all is still the boy I fell in love with so many years ago. Before I can think about it, I throw an arm around his neck to hug him.

As if he was expecting it, he wastes no time returning the embrace, his face coming to settle in the nook of my shoulder while he inhales the scents radiating from my hair. His fingers toy with the skin on my lower back while I reach up on my tip toes to get full access. Just like the night outside the bar, we fit together perfectly.

"I hope you don't mind this," I whisper.

"I don't," he huffs. I almost don't recognize his voice. "I missed you so much, Katniss." And I'd missed him too, I just didn't realize how much until this moment right here. I tell him so and we stand there for another minute or two before unlinking.

"I hope you didn't mind what happened the other night," Peeta finally mumbles after the flush from our cheeks has finally disappeared. I can't look at him. "Because Katniss, I don't. I've been dreaming about kissing you again for-"

"Peeta," I interrupt, bringing a hand to his chest to stop him. He looks down at me with sad eyes. "Peeta, you have a girlfriend." It's almost as if he'd forgotten the way his eyes bulge.

"That can be taken care," he says after awhile. It's my turn to look at him bewildered.

"How could you say that?" I demand. "It can be taken care of? Peeta that's a horrible way to think!"

His face burns red but he says nothing, just shrugs his shoulders in a manner that tells me he regrets nothing he's said. "What I'm saying is that, I don't regret it. I enjoyed it and I hope you don't regret it either. That's all." He holds his hands up in defense as he slowly takes a few steps back.

"I don't," I whisper. Peeta raises a dark eyebrow in question and smirks. I can't keep the smile off of my face as I repeat the words. "I don't regret it either."

Peeta smiles, a full smile that is so breathtaking and magical that I wonder how I could have walked away from something so perfect. "So does that mean I have permission to-"

"Peeta!" Speak of the goddamn devil.

Delly Cartwright comes up to the right of Peeta, her blonde hair styled back into a ponytail, her face painted with makeup, the watch she wears on her left wrist more expensive than my entire apartment. She's just as beautiful as I remember and poised. It seems she'd finally picked the correct shade of orange she wished to dye herself and though she smiles at me, I can tell it's less than genuine and more protective than anything. I cower.

"Katniss, hi," she sings, coming forward to grasp me in a hug. It surprises me and I stare wide eyed at Peeta from over her shoulder. What great timing she has. Maybe her spidey senses were tingling. "Oh my goodness, I heard you were back. I just haven't seen you around."

I smile. "Yeah, well, I just moved into an apartment and what not a little ways from here and am just trying to get settled in. My daughter just started school too so, it's been an adjustment period for us all."

Delly nods her head, putting a hand over her heart, looking so much like her mother in the moment, I think I'm seeing a ghost. "Of course, I can't even imagine. I would be an emotional wreck if my child was starting school. They just grow up so fast."

"It's been almost a month. I don't think I have another tear to cry." Delly laughs loudly, one arm wrapping around Peeta's bicep as she stares longingly up at him. I realize she's staking her claim, peeing on her spot. I feel the competitive streak running through me. If she only knew. "Peeta, here, was nice enough to walk Emma and I to school today."

"Oh, is that right?" Delly smiles. "He's just the sweetest, isn't he?"

"Oh, the best," I agree. Something about my answer must bother her because the emotions run clear off of her face then, her head cocking to the side as if she's contemplating something. It's not like I'd ever seen Delly angry but I could only guess her moods didn't stray too far away from mine.

"Peeta, honey, don't you have some work to do? Things to bake," Delly says, dismissing Peeta as he stands looking bewildered. When he doesn't move, she turns her glare on him, giving him a look that says there is no room for argument. I don't expect him to leave but, before I know it, he's turned on his heel and disappeared back into the bakery, mumbling a simple goodbye.

So then I stand, completely alone with Delly Cartwright who is looking less than friendly. I can safely say, I'd never seen her look this way. Not even that time in eighth grade when Johanna Mason has purposely dropped her blue Gatorade atop her white dress on picture day.

I try to speak first, knowing it'll be better if I can somehow maneuver myself out of this situation versus having to deal whatever it is she has to say. And I know by the look in her eyes there is something she has to say. "I should really be going. I have work in about two hours and need to shower before-"

"He's been doing good, Katniss," Delly interrupts, crossing her arms over her chest. My face must be giving something away because she continues. "He's been doing a lot better. Not that you've been around to see any of it."

I flinch. "We're just friends, Delly. It's safe to say, in this instance, I think we both just want Peeta to be happy."

Delly looks hesitant. "He's doing okay," she repeats. "He's doing okay and the last thing anyone needs is you coming in here and making him regress." I'm utterly offended by her words but I try my hardest to keep my composure, my face cool and hands from shaking. "All you've done is hurt him, Katniss, and I just really don't want to see that happen again."

"I would never hurt him intentionally, Delly. Surely you know that," I mutter. "I know we don't have the best track record but never in my life would I purposely do something like-"

"What do you think being here does to him?" She seethes, anger slipping into her tone as she takes three large steps forward. She towers over me in the heels she wears. "All that I'm saying is that I don't need you walking all over him! He's had enough people doing that all of his life and the last thing he needs is you coming back here and ruining everything he's worked hard to correct."

Before I can get another word in, she turns on her heel, marching back towards the bakery, her hips swaying obnoxiously. I'm left speechless as I watch her go, the words she said bouncing around the columns of my mind. Mostly because their true. Their all true. Every single syllable.

I was a poison to Peeta Mellark. Always had been, always would be. How stupid was I to think otherwise?

* * *

How was it? Did you like it? bitchy Delly is a good Delly. I mean, we've all been there.

My motto is: don't touch what isn't yours!

But I do love Katniss so….

-B


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I watch the whole scene from the open window of the bakery, not listening to Johanna's words in my ear as she gives a play by play or paying any attention to the dough I'm trying to knead. I just watch as Delly gets frazzled, Katniss gets quiet, and then Delly gives a dramatic goodbye. My hands shake as she turns to return to the bakery. She'd never been one to make a scene, but if she did, I can't say I'd be all that surprised.

So I begin to prepare myself for it. Maybe a slap, maybe a few biting words. I'd seen Delly spit on a girl in high school. But that was completely out of character and I wasn't sure she'd ever do that again. But I wouldn't blame her if she did. I might applaud her. But what she saw didn't warrant any of those things. It's what she didn't see that may deserve it all.

"Incoming on aisle one," Johanna jokes, sending me a sad look before disappearing into the back of the bakery, her soft singing the only other thing I'm aware of besides the pounding in my heart. I close my eyes in hopes that maybe, just maybe, the universe will finally answer my prayers and swallow me up. Of course, it doesn't. When have things ever gone the way I'd wanted them too?

"What the hell was that," Delly curses as soon as she's within range. No one is here but Johanna in the back and I'm glad.

"Katniss is just a friend, Dells, jeez," I mumble, refocusing my attention so she won't see the pink that stains my cheeks. "I just saw her and Emma walk by the bakery this morning and thought they might want some breakfast. One thing led to another and I just ended up walking them to school, that's it." I don't mention the kiss because, technically speaking, that was two days ago.

"Katniss makes her own money, Peeta. I'm sure she can afford her own breakfast," she huffs, trapping my body between her arms. For being so small, she had quite a bit of strength. I don't try to move after that knowing I won't get far. I should accept what she has to say, be a man. It's what my father would have told me. It's what he did when things with my mother were bad which were quite often. I take a breath. "And I didn't mean the breakfast. I meant why were you two so close to each other out there?"

"I didn't notice anything," I say. I hadn't. Our proximity hadn't even crossed my mind though, I suppose, it should have. People around this town talk and if Delly hadn't seen it for herself, I'm sure I could have denied it. "It's nothing, Dells. She's a friend."

"Yeah, you've said that," Delly laughs humorlessly, shaking her head from side to side. She stomps around the counter, not letting me stray far as she manages to corner me once again. "Johanna, give us a minute."

It's more of a command and not so much of a suggestion. Johanna normally wouldn't take kindly to this but the look on Delly's face is enough to scare anyone and she moves without argument, whispering something to me that I don't catch before moving to the back room. No doubt she's listening, ear pressed against the door to scold me for whatever I say later. It wouldn't be the first time.

"At least someone will be able to hear me if you decide to stab me with my own chef knife, huh," I joke. At least I try too. From the way Delly's hand tightens around the counter, her knuckles white for all the worst reasons, I know I've chosen the wrong words.

"You're not funny," she says deadpanned, her eyes deadly. She takes a deep breath before speaking again and when she does, she speaks to me like I'm a small child. "I'm sick and tired of this shit."

"What shit?" I curse, throwing my hands up in the air. "I haven't seen Katniss is five years, Delly. Is it so weird that when she comes by I talk to her? Do you want me to shun her like the rest of this town? I'm not that kind of person!"

"No one is shunning her. Do not make her seem like a victim," Delly seethes, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. There's a fire in her eyes that I've never seen before and, in a way, it scares the hell out of me.

I could easily do the right thing and just apologize, promise Delly I won't speak to Katniss or act that way with her if that's what she wants. Because she is, by definition, my girlfriend and I should respect her wishes. If roles were reversed, I'd do whatever Katniss told me to do without a second thought. I was a puppet and she was the puppeteer.

But being able to stay away from her is something I know I won't succeed in. She's the poison fruit and I've already taken a bite. I'm hooked to whatever it is she's selling and no one is going to pull me away from it, not again. I'd gone too long without her. I could never do it again. The pull I'd felt for so long in my younger days was back, stronger than ever and I was even weaker.

"I'd be lying if I told you I could stay away from her, Delly."

The comment is simple enough and her reaction is immediate. A million emotions play across her face ranging from angry to sad to almost relieved and then back again. They replay endlessly for what feel like eternity until, finally, her expression balances out and she's looking at me, her blue eyes blank as she judges my own expression. I can't imagine I'm giving away much of anything but I'm not sure.

"I wasn't going to ask you to," Delly whispers, her voice breaking. Tears form in the corner of her eyes. With a tentative hand she brushes them away before they can even come to the surface. "I don't know what I was going to ask you to do but I wasn't going to do that."

I nod my head slowly. "You're such a good person, Delly. You really are."

The flood gates are opened and within seconds, for what feels like the millionth time this week, she cries. Sobs into the sleeve of her shirt though, this time, I don't make any move to try and comfort her because I know that's not what she needs. She needs to be mad at me and as much as I hate to see her hurt, knowing I did such things, I knew this was going to have to happen. If it wasn't today, it needed to be soon.

So when I sit Delly down and explain to her what a good person she's been to me and how much I appreciate and love her, I mean all the words I say. Without her, I'm not sure I would have gotten through this alive. I'm broken now but I can't imagine how torn up I would have been without her there to comfort me in the middle of the night, hold my hand through it all and tell me I'd be okay.

And I'd never meant to hurt her. Actually, if Katniss hadn't come back, truthfully, maybe I could have brought myself to love her. With a lot of coaxing and patience, I could have tricked my mind into believing I love her. She wasn't the one, never had been. But I could imagine a life with her, kids and a house and the bakery.

But that was before Katniss and now, my head is foggy again and I can't think of anything but her. And that's not fair to Delly. She deserves someone who will give her the white picket fence. That won't be me. I'm too broken.

"You put me back together, Delly, and I can't thank you enough for that. But I am sorry I can't be the man you need me to be. There is someone else out there for you," I finish, using the pads of my thumbs to wipe away her tears as they fall. She's finally stopped making those choking noises. I'm thankful for that, they were starting to suffocate me.

"And what about you?" Delly chokes, flinching away from my touch as if it burns her. "What are you going to find, Peeta?"

"Delly, I'll be okay," I assure her. "I've spent most of my life alone, what's so wrong with spending the next fifty years the same way?" I say the words with a smile but panic rushes through me at the realization that this may be it for me. The bakery. Panem. The few friends I have left. The other part of my life I imagined coming along with it may be nothing but a distant dream now.

"Don't say that, Peeta," she whispers. "You're not as hopeless as you make yourself seem. You'll get along just fine, I know you will."

I reach out and grab one of her hands in both of mine, bringing them to my lips for the last time. She smells of ginger tea and the slightest bit of vanilla. A mixture I'll miss in time with everything else. But I know I'll see her again. She's not lost within the world, just no longer in mine. This town is small and we will cross paths again, I just have to wait for the day.

"You're such a good person," I repeat again just to engrave in her mind how highly I think of her. "There aren't many people in this world who would stay by their crippled boyfriend for this long and I don't know how to thank you enough. Whoever you end up with will be the luckiest man in the world."

Delly smiles sadly. "She would have done it for you too, you know. If she had been here, there is no doubt in my mind she would have done the exact same thing." When I don't respond, she continues. "I kind of wish she'd come back in the beginning. You needed her then. With all the surgeries and your dad."

I don't remember much from those days, just the never ending pain I felt running through my blood stream for hours and hours on end no matter what the time. I'd tried my best to forget the weeks then. Waking up without a leg and a father and so many foreign things in my life making this world seem dark. I'd tried to forget that month entirely but I saw it every night in my dreams. Well, when I wasn't dreaming about Katniss.

I do remember spending a lot of my time then thinking about Katniss. What she was doing, where she was, who she was with. And I just remember hoping she was happy wherever she was. That she wasn't feeling what I was feeling and that life had been better to her than it had been to me.

I spent most nights thinking about her laugh and her hair and the way she would say my name in the heat of the moment. The way she would walk and run and sing.I tried to remember the color of her eyes, the grey specks that flickered when they hit the light just right and when I'd finally plucked up enough courage to pick up my paints again, I'd tried to make the color perfectly for a whole week. I'd never succeeded but that didn't stop me.

And painting her eyes gave me hope in those days, weirdly. It gave me something to try, to look forward too. It made me wonder if they'd changed at all, and if they did, what colors I'd have to add. When Prim had come to see me in the hospital, I'd almost asked for a picture. Almost. But the poor girl was crying so much, I chose to say very few things.

"I wish she'd been there," I say after what feel like a year. Delly is staring at me, her eyes far off as she hears me say the words. I realize this may be insensitive given the fall of our relationship. But she says nothing. "I don't know, I just needed her."

"You said her name a lot in your sleep," Delly tells me. "Finnick and I were with you most nights and the only thing you'd say in your sleep was her name. Sometimes sadly, most of the time in a happy way. But it was like a chant over and over and over again." She wipes away at her cheeks. "We wanted to call and ask her to come back but we knew she would just have to leave again. And then where would you be?"

I nod my head, knowing the two were right. If Katniss could come, only for a day or two, what would that have done to help me? She would have had to turn right around, disappear into the masses yet again and I'd be stuck, alone this time, to pick up the pieces. The thought is unbearable now.

"It's always been her, hasn't it?"

I don't say anything because the world knows the answer. It's always been her and it will always be her.

I give Delly the smallest of shrugs and with that, she leaves.

...

I go to Rye's next. Mostly because he'd promised me free beer. Secondly because I missed my niece and my nephew. It'd been awhile since I'd seen him and the kids in more than a few passing words.

My relationship with my brother's was a strange one. On one hand, we all had something in common being the terrible person my mother was. We grew together in the sense that we needed each other more than all else. Mostly to cover our asses but nevertheless, sometimes we needed a hug though those were scarce.

And I couldn't say we didn't get along because we did. We had more good moments with each other than bad ones and we loved each other though we avoided saying the words aloud. We were the Mellark boys and together we stood through it all.

But growing up was not always sunshine. Wheaton and Rye had grown to be much closer being their ages were so close. The eighteen month gap between Rye and I, and the four year gap between Wheaton and I, made bonding hard, mostly during our teenage years. By then, I was their annoying younger brother who they wanted gone and that is how they treated me. Rye wasn't too much older but he acted as if he had decades on me.

Eventually, their words of hate no longer hurt me and I gave little thought to the things they threatened to do to me when I'd interrupt their private moments. Soon than later, we learned to move around each other rather than together and that became that.

When Wheaton left for college, I can't say I was too upset. I don't remember it much. I was still in middle school, lagging behind the gang, only twelve or thirteen at the time. I didn't understand that he was going away, that he would stay away. I looked at it as a vacation rather than something to be sad about.

Rye going away was a little harder. But that was mostly because he was leaving when my life was hitting it's lowest point, the bottom of the barrel. Having him leave during my senior year shook me but I was too involved in my own head to really care. Truthfully, he worried more about leaving me than I did about him leaving. But Rye was a good brother despite all the tormenting growing up and just wanted to see me happy. I suppose that was still his mission.

The house Rye and Lavinia purchased is too much like my childhood home for comfort. The plastered walls, trees with perfectly textured rounds, a small swing set in the front yard. It was like I was walking back in time to a place I wanted to forget.

I'd brought this up to Rye before he'd bought the house, a few months ago when he'd brought me for my opinion. "We'll make better memories in this one, no?" I didn't doubt it. That wouldn't be too hard to master.

I walk in without knocking, the key under the mat there for my disposal. The security system beeps as I step inside then silence a few moments later, the sound of laughter coursing through my ears as my niece and nephew run towards me at full speed, blonde curls flapping.

I smile and, without a second thought, place them over my shoulder until their squealing, Emily banging her small fists on my shoulder blades while Cash laughs with everything he has. I note Lavinia must be out or the kids would be acting much more orderly.

"Uncle Peeta, put me down!" They both say in unison. I hold them above my head for another moment before releasing them, watching as they stumble from being dizzy before settling on the carpet with content smiles on their faces.

Looking at the two of them, side by side, they truly amaze me in every sense of the word. My brother amazes me. How in the world could that piece of shit manage to make two humans, so perfect in everything they do? It's always baffled me how his life turned out. How he ended up with the girl he wanted and the kids and the house with the picket white fence. He got the dream I saw when I closed my eyes. The thing that seemed so far and unattainable.

"Where's your daddy?" I rasp finally, moving to remove my shoes. Lavinia would have my head if I stained the carpet with mud from outside. They'd just got it redone. She'd stopped by the bakery last week to tell me all about it.

Emily points to the kitchen and Cash nods his head in the same direction. Without another word I move, winding my way through their house which, in my opinion, was too big for a family of four. Rye stands hunched over the stove, apron around his waist as he finishes what I believe to be Mac and Cheese.

"It's well past four," I point out, not bothering with formal introductions. "The kids should have eaten lunch hours ago, Rye." He looks at me, obviously not thinking my joke is funny, and rolls his eyes.

"It's been a long fucking day, okay man?" He curses. He could say that again. "Lavinia went to town for some "girls day" shit and left me alone with those two all day. It's really hard to reign in two five year olds who seem hell bent on making this day hard for me."

I laugh. "That's what you get for going to Colorado last month for that bachelor party. You knew you were going to get red carded for that, man."

"Marriage is hard, Peeta," Rye groans, putting his head into his hands and taking deep, calming breaths. He looks on the verge of the breakdown, a lot like how I appear on bad days. I don't feel too sorry for him. I would trade a day with two five year olds over a lifetime without a leg. I don't say anything. "I forgot to tell you, mom is coming over for dinner. She sounded pretty lonely on the phone this morning."

I try to keep my emotions in check but at the sound of my mother's name, my jaw locks out of anger. My mother who doesn't even bother to call her youngest son, the one who probably needs her the most. My mother who doesn't deserve the title. She'd never loved Rye either, not like she had Wheaton, but they got along better than the two of us did. He tried harder to make it work. I'd given up on caring.

"It doesn't have to be so bad, Peeta," he tells me, moving to stir whatever is in the pot. "We can just have a nice dinner over a glass of wine, let the kids play. We can try and be a normal family for once."

There was no trying to be a normal family and while everyone else went along with the idea that maybe, after twenty-six years, we could make something work, I knew differently. "It's not me whose going to start anything, Rye. You know that."

He shakes his head. "But you're going to be the one to finish it, Peet. _You_ know that. You're a better person than she is. You have to learn to let what she says go."

Just then I hear the shrill of her voice and the clink of her heels. My mother has aged well. Finding a new husband wouldn't be too hard for her in the looks department. It was just her hostile personality that turned people away from her. How my father had put up with it for so many years, I didn't know. I'd stopped asking.

She greets Rye with a kiss on a cheek, me with a dull smile. I make no attempt to be welcoming back. I sit there, staring at my hands, making busy work as she sits across from me. The twins come in and that distracts her for a moment. But she grows bored.

"Got anything to drink around here," she snaps. Rye goes to get her a glass of wine and we're left alone.

Her foot bounces over her knee as she looks me up and down. For a moment, she looks sorry for me. Or maybe sorry for herself. But sorry nevertheless and the look catches me off guard. But I don't have too much time to dwell on it before her eyes grow cold again.

"How's Delly doing?" She asks. Rye is back with her wine. She balances it on her knee.

My cheeks burn at the mention of her name. For a second, I'd forgotten all about her. All about us. Well, I guess there wasn't one anymore. So I tell them the short and sweet story. That Delly deserved more than what I could give her and we would be better apart than together.

My mother's eyes are hard as I rely the story and Rye almost looks confused. "Where'd all this come from, Peeta? I thought things were good."

I lick my lips and stare at my hands. "I don't know, Rye. I just don't feel like now is the right-"

"Oh, don't listen to the boy," my mother interrupts. She rolls her eyes. "The Everdeen girl just moved back with some bastard child. It's not yours, Peeta, is it?" It's a joke but her laugh isn't funny. It's menacing. It's meant to plant a knife in my heart. I look away from her, defeated. "Still false hope that things between the two of you might actually work. You're too good for that piece of trash."

It's the only time she'd complimented me but it's at Katniss's expense which makes it no better. I turn my glare on her then look to Rye who looks uncomfortable. "Katniss is a nice girl, mom. I'm sure that's not the reason anyway. Peeta and Katniss have moved on, made different lives."

Had we? Had we really done that or had we just distracted ourselves all these years from the obvious? I didn't know yet, I was still trying to figure it out. The only thing I do know is whatever life involves Katniss now is the one I'm trying to incorporate myself in.

"She's damaged goods, Peeta," she whispers. "It'd be smart of you to stay away before her past bites you in the ass."

"How do you know something bad will happen?"

"Call it a mother's instinct."

...

It's late at night when I make my decision. Lying beneath the covers of my bed, listening to the soft music from my phone, thinking about grey eyes and brown hair. It's then I decide I can't wait another second.

It's late and I shouldn't be calling but I do. And on the second ring, she answers.

"Hello?" her voice is clear, lacking sleep. Maybe Emma was up. Maybe she was sick. If she was sick, would Katniss need help? Was that a friend thing to do? In my silence, she'd grown impatient. "Hello?"

"Do you want to go on a date with me?"

* * *

how was it? did you enjoy it? sorry for the late update. Life has been crrraazzzy!

please review.

-b


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